


Love in the Time of Covid

by theselittlethings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief Reference to Past Physical Abuse, Chance Meetings, Dirty Talk, Discussion of Drunk Driving Fatality, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fictional Version of Covid, Grief/Mourning, I Wrote This Instead of Going to Therapy, Lots of Scenery Description, New England, POV Rey (Star Wars), Pandemics, References to Past Alcoholism, Rey Needs A Hug, Rey Palpatine, Ripped From the Headlines, Road Trips, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slice of Life, Strangers to Lovers, Stream of Consciousness, Virus Quarantine AU, some social commentary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23135587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theselittlethings/pseuds/theselittlethings
Summary: Flights are grounded on Rey's way to the airport. A week-long mandatory lockdown begins in thirteen hours, throwing her in a race against the clock to reach her grandfather's cabin. She meets a dark handsome stranger looking for a ride to an exit on her way up north, who turns out to be as lost & lonely as she...AND/OR...And then they were quarantined.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 266
Kudos: 320





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie to you, this was written as a distraction from my increasing anxiety. Drafting this has been somewhat cathartic for me and not intended make light of current events. Whole thing has a pretty somber tone but ends on a happy hopeful note.
> 
> Posting in hopes that this will provide a distraction for someone else like it has for me. Sending love, good vibes, prayers, whatever you need — stay safe, stay healthy, and be kind to one another.
> 
> Enjoy ❤
> 
> P.S. Title is a play on the Marquez novel, but not intended as commentary or reference. I've never read it.

The announcement comes through on the radio on her way there:

_All flights grounded until further notice._

The cab driver doesn't say anything, glances into the rearview mirror to meet her eyes and keeps going. He wears a facemask despite the literature about their futility, hopefully getting whatever psychological comfort he needs.

A few seconds pass before he asks,

"Still taking you to the airport?"

Rey nods. "Yeah."

"If you want to go elsewhere I won't charge you for —"

"It's fine," she insists, looking out the window again. "Airport is fine."

The driver shrugs, checks the estimated arrival time on his GPS. Rey fiddles with the tag on her duffel bag, unfocusing her gaze on the city skyline mostly obscured in fog. The roads are less crowded but hardly empty, giving the ride some semblance of normalcy despite the news announcer's dire tone:

"…Flights currently en route will be landing at their intended destinations with all future departures suspended. The surprise call to ground flights two hours earlier than scheduled comes in light of the most recent breaking news…"

Fatalities tripled overnight. She already knows.

"…The mandatory quarantine has not been moved up, scheduled to go into effect in fourteen hours…"

Rey tunes out the rest. She could conceivably rent a car and make it to Vermont before lockdown. Whether she really wants to is another thing. Shelters are opened & stocked nationwide for stranded travelers, but she can't trust the density guidelines to be followed and —

Well, being around that many strangers for so long sounds like literal hell. Rey has no desire to relive anything resembling the close quarters she was forced to share throughout childhood. Hotels, hostels, vacation rentals are all booked or price gouged. And may not be stocked beyond the broadcasted recommendations, if at all…

The cab driver drums the steering wheel in time with her racing heartbeat. Her options are few and shrinking rapidly. The scene outside reminds her that time is running out. The walkways and bike paths are deserted, the passing cars full of luggage and exhausted faces. Her vehicle takes the next exit, coming to a stop at a light at the end of the ramp. A little boy in the backseat of his parents' SUV looks up from his tablet to wave to her from his window.

She smiles back. Despite his widened eyes and pallid skin. (Probably nerves. No fatalities in anyone under age 20. Yet.)

This isn't a joke anymore. Hasn't been for weeks, but she didn't cancel her trip to see Finn and Rose despite medical professionals admonishing unnecessary travel on every media outlet. When the mandatory quarantine orders came down three days ago, she helped them prepare and stock items — fielding awkward questions about why she's staying to assist with these things in the first place —

_"Are you sure your grandfather doesn't need anything?" Rose asked innocently._

_Rey dismissed the concern with a waved hand. "Someone's always there."_

— Her cell phone vibrates in her frayed travel clutch right on cue, buzzing for her attention in her lap. She unzips the bag, checks the notification:

📞 **Palps** 🏢

Home office phone. Probably not even her grandfather, but she picks up anyway.

"Yeah?" she answers in a bored tone.

"Rey."

Exactly who she expected. "Yeah?"

Dooku sighs. "Your grandfather is asking after you."

"He can't call me himself?" she tuts.

"He's currently occupied."

Rey can imagine Dooku's heavy-lidded eyes rolling with exasperation. He's never concealed his opinion of Rey's disrespect for her elders. Not that her grandfather (or his crew of old boomers permanently smoking cigars in the basement) deserved any.

In her humble opinion at least. "Tell Palps he can 'ask after me' himself."

"Fine," Dooku agrees, trying to move the conversation along. "Are you on your way to the airport?"

Rey checks the dirt under her chewed down nails absentmindedly. "All flights are grounded —" 

"Go to the rental counter in Terminal C, we've arranged for you to pick up a vehicle there. There's been congestion on the Merritt through Connecticut and 91 in Massachusetts, but once you pass the Vermont border it should be all clear…"

Dooku keeps going, providing exacting instructions on her grandfather's behalf. Rey half-listens as the cab approaches the airport, biting her lip when she spots vehicles pouring into the narrow exit lanes. She directs the driver to Terminal C, pats her duffel bag for one last confirmation that everything is packed. Makes sure to offer occasional commentary,

"Yeah." "Okay." "Sure."

He catches on when she reaches her destination. "Did you even hear a word of what I was saying?"

"Crystal clear," she quips. "I'll ring Palps when I'm on the road."

"Please do," he responds and ends their call on that abrupt note.

Rey sighs, keying in a tip for the driver and zips away her phone. "Thank you."

The man turns around, elbow on the passenger headrest. "You have somewhere to go?"

Rey nods, reaches for the door handle and bids farewell. "Stay safe."

The driver clicks his tongue and replies grimly, "May God save our souls."

Rey blinks. "Uh. You too."

She could do without the fatalism and drama, but knows it's too much to ask given the current climate. The driver salutes as she closes the door, halting when he's hailed seconds later by another straggler trying to flee. Rey pulls up her trenchcoat's collar to cover her mouth, weaving through the clusters of stranded passengers outside the terminal.

Rey tries to ignore the one man coughing several yards away. The woman in a pantsuit crying into her Bluetooth receiver. Young children stand close to their parents, holding stuffed animals & travelling bags without masks while their parents study roadmaps in hushed whispers, trying to hide their fear.

All the ticket stands still have LAST MINUTE SPECIALS banners draped over the counters & self-service kiosks. Rey hurries against the flow of foot traffic, rushing to the hub's lower floors as almost everyone else leaves. Rey lingers at the top of the escalator, waiting until the group in front of her is halfway down to board.

The phone is vibrating again:

📞 **Palps** 🏠

Actual home phone. Making the call himself for once. She lets it go to voicemail, clears her throat watching her feet at the bottom of the collapsing stairs. Rey messes with her hair, pulled back into three buns to keep it away from her face. She adjusts the strap of her pack nervously, frowns seeing the people queuing at the car rental counters. Everyone stands in nearly uniform distances from one another, wearing varying degrees of stress and gear. Only three of the counters are even open, and she hears a megaphone when she heads to the restrooms.

"We have no more vehicles available! No more vehicles available on standby for Platinum Club Members, Gold Club Members, Silver Club Members…"

Rey increases her pace when she hears a man yell some choice words she can't really understand. Even with the airport at a tiny fraction of its usual capacity, the tension is palpable and nearly everyone is on edge. She ducks into the restroom, does a double take passing one of the baggage carousels on her way back to the rentals. Spots a man with a valet card that reads:

PALPATINE

Rey stops, turns on her heels to approach the guy in an ill-fitting gray suit. She points to the sign, "Do you have…"

"Passcode," he barks in a raspy voice.

She sighs. "Sidious."

The man is old, observing her skeptically from a distance. His bony hands remove a set of keys from his pocket and he shakes them at a vacant inspection table.

"I'll leave 'em here." He hobbles to drop them on the surface several feet away. "Elevator there, third floor, section 3F."

Rey frowns. This guy should be home. It's no secret that the elderly are at highest risk for the more lethal mutated E-strain. But her grandfather probably bullied him into showing up by bringing up some unpaid debt with enough firepower from a local proxy to risk exposure. She's learned about her grandfather's criminal roots all over the East Coast over the past two and a half years, digging his claws deep despite spending two decades behind bars.

"Do you… need a ride?" she offers.

The man shakes his head, keeping his distance from her as he starts to leave. "Someone's here to pick me up. Stay safe."

Rey stashes away the keys, stands by the table watching him go. One of the carousels is still running, carrying a single silver suitcase with prominent luggage tags. She checks her phone, no voicemail from Palps. Walks with her hands in her pockets to the indicated elevator, deserted with most people heading to pickups on the other side of the floor. The machine chimes & operates like everything is normal, even playing smooth jazz over the speakers as it lowers at an excruciatingly slow pace.

The doors shudder when they open. The parking garage is empty of people but half-filled with cars whose owners likely won't be returning for a long time —

(Seven days at least. A week's shutdown with everyone advised to prepare for a week more.)

— Rey tries to put it out of mind. She has plenty of time to drive to Burlington, even if the highways are slammed like Dooku said. A hacking cough echoes from another floor, spiking her adrenaline with a moment's fear. Her thoughts are racing again already as she sprints down the rows, trying to read the section signs as she passes:

_Is Palps even prepared for the lockdown? Did he leave the house to get supplies? What if one of the couriers brought the E-strain in?_

And she hates that she still has that impulse to care about his well-being when he didn't give a fuck about hers for years. Her vision blurs with tears as her breaths become shallow, overwhelmed by all the THINGS to consider returning north —

_How many people will be in the cabin? Dooku will be there for sure, probably another sycophant or two at least. How much supplies did they get? Did they even include her in the count? Did they stock the extra week? Just the whiskey or other essentials too?_

But her anger and frustration cools with her next heartbeat:

_What if she has nowhere to stay?_

She should have left days ago, like Finn and Rose implied and eventually outright said, not totally understanding her resistance towards going home.

("He's trying," Finn likes to remind her when reframing, "better late than never.")

The question of having nowhere to stay is more rhetorical than actual, with every media outlet broadcasting the Shelters Hotline every few minutes. Plenty of posted warnings that the National Guard and local police departments will be enforcing the mandatory quarantine. And despite that instinctive fear of nearly every person being a potential exposure to Covid22 —

These past few days, hours…

She's never felt more alone.

"— Are you okay?"

The voice is flat and deep. Somewhere nearby but still sounding distant, tempered with a note of genuine concern. Rey stops and looks up, stomach dropping to her knees. Her pack slides down her shoulder into the crook of her elbow as she gasps —

It's another stranger. A man with a prominent nose and dark hair past his ears, pale under the flickering fluorescent lights in the parking garage. He wears a simple black leather jacket over a white t-shirt and navy jeans, carrying a large red duffel bag like hers. He isn't intimidating despite his stature and broad frame, keeping the designated four feet between them when he asks again,

"Are you okay?"

Rey exhales slowly, slings her pack back on. "Y- Yeah. I'm okay."

Last thing she needs is to get attacked on her way north. She slides a hand into the pocket of her coat, clutches her canister of pepper spray.

"You sure?" he says.

"Yes," Rey lies. "I'm fine."

She hopes it sounds convincing. A couple seconds pass, carrying a thin breeze that smells like fire & charcoal briquettes. This would be the opportunity to leave and end this entire interaction, but her feet refuse to move…

The stranger offers, "You need someone to walk you to your car?"

…Her face pales. The suggestion seems so oddly polite and out of place. She finds it more charming than unsettling, though she knows she shouldn't. 

"I- I'll be okay." Fuck, her voice won't stop shaking. "Do you know what section this is?"

He furrows his brows, shifting his intense gaze to one of the concrete columns beside them. He takes a step forward to squint between a pair.

"3D." He turns back to Rey. "Are you sure?"

_She's not._

Avoiding any unnecessary and prolonged contact has been the prevailing social custom for weeks now. As the virus spread, it infected everyone's manners & common courtesy to feel more like playacting under restraint. Awkward attempts to pretend things are normal, or will be again any time soon — 

That's not one of the Covid22 symptoms. Just a result of universal avoidance and barely contained fear. But the stranger's offer seems uniquely genuine, almost like they may have met somewhere before. 

The unseen person with a wet cough starts hacking out of view again. Rey presses her lips to a line, hesitating another beat.

"Actually…" She reaffirms her grip on the pepper spray. Just in case. "I'm looking for 3F. Right nearby probably."

"Think letters go up this way."

He gestures behind him to indicate the direction, brings his hand down to brush aside some hair falling over his face. Rey reevaluates his appearance: no bloodshot eyes, no rattle or wheeze when he exhales, no oversized pores or signs of prolonged cold sweats —

And it helps that he's attractive. For these few minutes she can imagine him as a dark handsome stranger guiding her to an exciting unknown full of hope and opportunity. 

_Coming to sweep her away._

He paces backwards a couple steps before turning about to lead her to the correct rows. Rey trails behind him, finds herself tracing the outline of his strong body beneath his loosely-tailored clothes. The animal part of her brain jokes that he would be a good companion for societal collapse.

"Saw a guy breaking into some cars a floor down," he provides conversationally.

Rey frowns. "Did he have a cough?"

"Yeah, didn't get a good look where he was going or anything."

The stranger clears his throat, covers his mouth with his elbow even though it isn't really necessary. The trip is very short and they find 3F quickly. The section is somewhat full with a vehicle parked every three or four spaces. The rows stretch onto the open-air roof, mostly grayed by the partly-cloudy late afternoon. She spots a thin silhouette standing at the very end next to a small bonfire, cobbled together from splintered planks, oil rags, and recycled bundles of newspaper. The figure is frozen still, watching the traffic below.

Rey pauses, struck by the quiet scene. She swallows hard, unzips her pack for the car keys to distract from the uneasy churning in her chest.

"Your car around here?" her temporary companion asks.

"It's — uh —" Rey peeks up, checks the fob in her palm. "It's a Volvo. Um…"

Her lips stretch into a thin smile. She answers honestly,

"I have no idea where it is."

"No idea where your own car is?" he replies skeptically.

Her laugh is joyless. "Kind of a funny story."

"Everyone has one of those these days."

Rey blinks. The man shrugs, his bleak implication cutting the conversation short. She glances away towards the figure by the bonfire again, bothered by how visible it makes the breakdown seem.

_"There is no reason to fear wide-scale collapse," the broadcasters insist despite all the looming evidence to the contrary. "Mortality rates remain at between fifteen and twenty percent, and deaths continue to remain isolated to the same groups: elderly, immunocompromised, asthmatics, smokers…"_

Rey presses the car's keyfob a couple times. A horn beeps several yards away.

"There it is," she says with a smirk.

She walks past the stranger to follow the sound. Edges into the recommended four foot radius as she cuts into the next row. Her cheeks flush, overly aware of his gaze, briefly enjoying the fleeting thought that she can act like they may see each other tomorrow. Maybe they would have in another time and place, trading numbers instead of somber observations.

Her body language changes knowing he trails behind her. She corrects her posture, straightens her shoulders and adds a soft sway to her hips. Not that he would even notice beneath her trenchcoat but…

The second's game is fun anyways. Rey presses the lock button again, winking over her shoulder when she realizes they're close.

"Where are you headed?" he asks.

"Vermont."

"Whereabouts?"

"Burlington." She glances back at him again. "You?"

"Connecticut."

She nods wordlessly. Their footsteps seem too loud. A siren wails somewhere faraway. Some fireworks ignite on the horizon, low and close to the houses clustered by the airport. A set of brakes halt with a piercing shriek on an unseen road below. Rey exhales slowly from her nose, trying to remind herself that things don't feel all that different — Not really —

He clears his throat. "You going up the Merritt Parkway?"

She recalls her conversation with Dooku. "Yeah. Then to 91."

Not that she knows where any of this is. She took a train on the way down here. And he doesn't say anything anyway. One more click and —

A car beeps and flashes its lights a few yards to their left. Dark blue Volvo station wagon with tinted windows and New Jersey license plates. Only three-years-old at most. The vehicle is mostly unremarkable, much much nicer than anything Rey can purchase on her own. She's not aware of her grandfather having any "business associates" in New Jersey, but nothing with him surprises her anymore. And wouldn't be the first time she's seen a stranger do something seemingly irrational at Palps' bidding. Struck by the same type of fear that's grabbed the whole fucking planet in a chokehold.

The vehicle chirps again.

"Hey!" Rey comments playfully. "Here we are."

"Here we are," the stranger repeats, his angular features lifting with a thin smile.

Rey returns it with a wide grin of her own. "Thank you." There's a beat. "Guess chivalry isn't dead after all."

"Only sick," he deadpans.

Her cheeks flush again. "Thanks again."

"Sure."

Rey takes a wipe from her pack and cleans the driver's door handle, keeping the vehicle closed. He waits where she left him like he wants to say something before she leaves. Her heartbeat picks up again meeting his gaze.

He begins, "Are you…"

"Yeah?"

"You'll be passing Exit 42 on the Merritt on your way to 91. There's a park & ride right there."

Rey shrugs. She supposes she will. And he wants to hitch a ride. Her pulse thuds loud in her ears, increasing when the implication clicks into place. She stays silent and crosses her arms, forcing him to supply the rest.

"I'm looking for a way there." He pauses. "If you're looking for company. For the beginning part of it at least."

Rey bites inside her cheek. "How far up is it?"

"No traffic? Hour and change."

Likely will be longer. Rey's survival instinct comes to the forefront again and she flashes an accusing glare.

"What are you doing up there? Waiting around in parking garages to escort young women and see who's dumb enough to let you chop them into little bits?"

He smiles again. "Something like that."

She shifts her weight on her feet. "Seriously. You're not gonna —"

"Been waiting for my ride for over three hours now. I don't think he's coming." The man grinds his jaw, unsuccessfully attempting to hide his concern. "Not surprised, but…"

Rey hears a familiar resignation in his sigh — a sentiment she knows well from her whole damn life of puzzling through one obstacle after another. Bouncing through foster homes, rotating school counselors and social workers, couch surfing through friends' spare rooms and basements — 

When she thinks about it like that, this pre-quarantine scramble isn't really that different from all the rest that came before.

The reframe is momentarily comforting at least. And makes it feel less dangerous to chase the fantasy of chance meetings she's only seen in movies. To grant all this madness a tiny bit of magic —

"Y- You're not going to kill me or something, right?" she asks again.

"No," he scoffs. "Want my business card?"

His long fingers sneak inside his jacket, pull out a small white slip. Rey crinkles her nose.

"What does a business card matter if I'm dead?"

He raises his eyebrows. "To tell whoever is waiting for you in Burlington."

She snorts at the thought of Dooku jotting some random name down on a used cocktail napkin, grumbling about the pain she puts her grandfather through. Either one of them would just tell her to call later and make sure not to fuck up anything along the way. Who's she with hardly matters to them and even in the grand scheme of things:

"Does it matter, anyways?"

The thought of state troopers chasing down missing persons reports post-lockdown is… laughable. Even those with credible leads. No one has any idea what to expect.

And she doesn't need to clarify for him to know what she means.

"…Suppose not," he finally agrees. "But I can be pleasant company."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"— Quiet."

She snickers. His earnest self-deprecation is friendly, and his shrugged demeanor too vulnerable to be entirely misleading. (Unless he's a bonafide sociopath. Unlikely, but a possibility.) Rey dismisses every rational consideration that prods her to reject him. Aside from being robbed, carjacked, murdered, and the rest —

_He doesn't look sick._

Rey blows away a loose clump of hair obscuring part of her vision. She hums in an exaggerated pitch, miming intense deliberation. She taps her foot instead of raising a finger to her lips.

_He's really hot._

(Seems better to just admit it weighs on her conscience heavily.)

_Fuck it. Hardly matters if she dies anyway —_

Rey sticks her hand out, palm up with a fist on her hip.

"Have to show me that business card first."

His expression darkens, amused by her attitude change. The card stays clasped between those two fingers, pointing to the ceiling as he closes the distance between them.

It's funny how the virus has made social boundaries so easy to see, with trust and friendship actually visible in the physical distances people maintain. The further apart, the less familiar. The stranger stops an arm's length away, signaling their new acquaintanceship with his card as a substitute handshake.

His eyes don't leave hers as he places the paper in her palm.

**BEN SOLO**

She expected something more interesting.

Rey small talks, "What do you do, Ben?"

He shrugs. "A little bit of everything."

"Uh huh." She flips it over, sees a single phone number listed on the back with no additional print. "People still give out business cards?"

"Kept forgetting my phone number at the time," he admits. "Trying to get rid of them all still."

Goofy, but she doesn't say anything. She stuffs it in her bag, unlocks the car and offers Ben the half-used handwipe for his door's handle.

"Well, let's go," she says. "Before we're stuck together for a whole week."

They throw their bags into the backseat instead of locking them in the trunk, silently prioritizing keeping their belongings on-hand. The seats are leather and the ride even has a sunroof, smells like Old Spice and stale beer. Rey starts the ignition and the temperature & time pop up on the dashboard display. She adjusts the mirrors, checks the blinkers and windshield wipers, locates the radio knobs and climate controls. Ben pushes the passenger seat back several notches to allow room for his long legs. Rey tries not to peek at his massive thighs as she plugs Palps' address into her phone.

"Know how to get out of the City from here?" Ben asks.

Rey indicates her phone. "Robot will tell me."

"Lots of roads will take you to where you need to go," he tells her. "If we stuck in anything along the way."

"I'll keep that in mind." Gas tank is almost full. Palps probably included that in his demands. "Can you do me a favor?"

"What?"

She doesn't look up, not wanting to see his face when she requests,

"Can you tell me the name on the registration?"

If he finds that odd he doesn't mention it. Rey listens to Ben unlatch the glovebox, take out the manual, rustle through some papers —

"Snoke Motorworks Inc, care of Palisades Volvo. Dealership."

"Thanks."

Ben fiddles with the audio, finds music stations with automated playlists on the satellite band. Rey can faintly smell Ben's sweat and soap, her stomach flipping when she notes how… nice it is. Her fingers shake unsteadily as she writes out a text to her grandfather's mobile phone:

_Got the car. Heading north._

Who knows if Palps even has his phone nearby. Probably on the nightstand in his bedroom next to his Tums and half-finished glasses of water. Rey nests her device in one of the cupholders. The car detects it automatically, shows her map on the display.

She's not used to these bells & whistles. Rey wiggles to get comfortable in her seat, clicks in the belt.

"Let's do this," she announces, turning to Ben.

Rey says it more for herself than for him. His projected calm is admirable, almost convincing even with one of his knees bouncing anxiously. He reclines his seat a bit and offers a small salute,

"Fly away, captain."

Second time she's seen it today, after years of never receiving a salute at all. They hold one another's gaze for some extra seconds too long.

"Y- Yeah…"

Rey puts the car in reverse, ignoring the back-up camera and twisting to check the rear. She drapes her arm on the passenger headrest out of habit, recoiling away when she clacks the vehicle into gear.

"Sorry," she murmurs, startled by wisps of hair feathering her skin.

"S'alright."

They circle a couple times to find the exit, sitting in silence as Rey creeps through the garage. Ben remains polite, elbow propped on the window and watching the windshield in her periphery. For some moments she feels the thrill of adventure, the freedom of taking a risk all on her own. She drums the steering wheel and they find the correct ramp on the roof —

Her heart sinks seeing the dwindling bonfire.

Her breath catches in her throat.

The figure is gone, only leaving behind a facemask and pair of shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be up pretty soon, especially if it's written as quickly as this one was. Thank you for reading.
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics)
> 
> Leaving links on first chapter & last:
> 
> [Force Bond Metaphysics](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/theselittlethings_sw_oneshots) (oneshot collection)
> 
> [The Black Forest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14400549/chapters/33255489) (completed longread) ~ post-tlj canonverse horror story
> 
> WIP: [The Darkness Within](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21919801/chapters/52318333) ~ TROS fanfic novelization, feat. a coherent plot & unnecessary smut
> 
> WIP: [Until The Very End of You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291218/chapters/48102949) ~ a spooky, sexy, modern day force bond story


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upped chapter count to 5. Already going longer than expected, but what else is new 😅 Since posting the first chapter, some things happened in the USA that are directly relevant to this fanfic:
> 
> \- Apparently lockdowns are not being done at a national level in the USA? Right now it's been by state.  
> \- New York + New York City went into lockdown. Connecticut (where Ben is heading) went into lockdown. Vermont (where Rey is heading) went into lockdown.  
> \- No widescale lockdown where I am yet, despite over 1000 cases in the state, but I've been staying inside dutifully.
> 
> Have no intentions of changing what's already planned for this little story. This is a FICTIONAL version of covid with a much higher mortality rate, even worse symptoms, and more intense societal breakdown. Exaggerating in fiction makes me feel a little better about the reality.
> 
> Thank you to [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weddersins/) for being an awesome beta and amazing friend.
> 
> Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy ❤

They make it out of the airport quickly and hit their first patch of traffic after three minutes on the highway. Clears up after a mile or two on her phone's map, but those estimates haven't been reliable for at least a week. An emergency warning snare interrupts the song on the radio to broadcast the lockdown timer, federal proclamation, and Shelters Hotline. Every thirty minutes like clockwork on nearly all playable audio.

"We know, we know," Rey mutters, turning the volume down. She turns to Ben. "Any alternates from here?"

Ben's already examining a map on his phone. "Not yet really."

The traffic reports are accurate this time, picking up speed when they make it to a juncture at the end of the expressway. They pass through patches of stop & go traffic on their way out of New York City. Roads are congested, but not overrun like zombie movie hellscapes. People have been stocking & shutting themselves inside for at least two weeks, making the short lead time to mandatory lockdown not as chaotic as she assumed it would be.

It's a small consolation and works well enough, momentarily convincing her that life will get normal again — eventually.

They barely speak for this first leg of their drive, mostly observing their surroundings. Almost every store they pass is shuttered, many with lights on & poking through the metal slats. Most people stay inside the apartments they pass, though some mill around patios and lounge on fire escapes. They reach the first major slowdown within sight of a lightly-colored suspension bridge Rey doesn't recognize.

"Which one is this?" she asks, pointing through the windshield.

He doesn't look at her when he answers, "Whitestone Bridge."

Rey supposes she could have figured it out herself between the prominent signs and landmark tag on the digital map, but is too scattered to give it much thought. Traffic fans out & through the empty tollbooths, funneling back into fewer lanes at a crawl onto the bridge. At one point Rey hesitates a second too long, stopping short for a sedan that cuts her off.

"Come on!" she groans.

"Ever driven around here?" Ben asks.

Rey shakes her head. "No."

"Don't expect anyone to get nicer for the end of the world." He doesn't look at her when he speaks this time either, smirking and watching the traffic ahead instead.

 _End of the world._ Rey knows Ben is kidding but doesn't like the uneasiness his comment leaves. 

She hums mindlessly to the song on the radio, spots a figure wandering between clumps of stopped cars. He wears a charcoal hoodie and sweatpants with a stripe down the side of each leg. Visibly huddles & shivers from temperature swings even from a distance. He approaches the car in front of them, knocking on the driver's door.

Then staggers towards Rey's vehicle, and she rolls up the cracked windows, her stomach twisting in knots —

"Fuck," she mutters, seeing the man's bloodshot eyes and clammy skin. He holds a sign that says BOSTON, smacks on the hood to get her attention,

"Please!" he begs.

Rey shrinks from the driver's side door. The man balances his weight on the car, on the verge of collapsing as he grabs the side mirror for leverage. His demeanor is wild & desperate, likely has the E-strain. Doesn't mutate as commonly in the younger population, but has a tendency to affect their mental acuity and awareness.

(As far as she knows. The news seems to change every few hours.)

The man wobbles to a stand at her door. Briefly their eyes seem to meet despite the tinted windows — communicating an unspoken terror they share. His voice is loud, raspy, with a rattling wheeze. She hears the leather seat creak beneath Ben's shifting weight.

"Please!" The man slams his fist on the glass. "I need to see my kids!"

Rey shouts to make sure she can be heard. "N- No! Sorry!"

Her fingers shake pushing the locks closed. The man tries the handle and several mechanical sounds clunk all at once — latches sliding down, an unbuckling seatbelt, a snap of fabric, and a car horn blaring outside — 

**"She said no!"**

Ben leans over to shout back through the window, intense and explosive. The severity of his warning darkens his profile. Rey holds her breath, reclines her seat to maintain some distance from Ben. She stares over his enormous body. Still only brake lights ahead. A pair of young women in the vehicle beside them are gaping at the scene over Ben's shoulders.

"Please…" The man tries the handle again. "Everyone's been… passing me by a- and —"

He coughs into his elbow, dry and hacking just like the news reports say. The effort knocks him into the van squeezed on their other side.

_Oh no —_

The van beeps and the guy startles from the noise, flailing onto Rey's window. She gasps, palm flying to her chest to cover her thudding heart. He stands with his hands on the door, bracing himself as he coughs violently and sprays red-flecked saliva all over the glass — 

Rey screams.

And Ben shouts over all the noise, points his finger at the man's face through the the window, emphasizes each word with bitter finality — 

"Fuck off!"

The man wipes his mouth. "Hey — I just —"

"FUCK! OFF!"

Ben slams the glass with his fist. The tail-lights dim on the car ahead and Rey lets off the brake, elbows bent tight with fear. She keeps her eyes glued to the rearview mirror to watch the man wander away as the station wagon rolls forward.

"Rey —"

She slams her foot down, vehicle lurching to a stop only inches from rear-ending the next bumper. Three lengths from the booth now. Ben grips the middle console and door, expecting a collision but still studying her face in her periphery. Rey exhales slowly, adjusts her seat back up with a resonating click.

"T- Thank you…"

She can't stop shaking, knuckles white on the steering wheel as she tries to ignore the drying contagion on her window.

"Are you okay?" Ben asks.

"…I don't know. Not really."

The lane next to them moves forward. Rey bites her lip.

"I'm not that kind of person, I don't know, I… Maybe I should have —"

"Risked exposure to the E-strain?" Ben says point blank.

There's a beat. Her insides ache. He tells her,

"You did nothing wrong."

But a part of her isn't sure. Wants to believe she's the same Rey, still. She stares hard at the approaching tollbooth through the windshield, avoiding Ben's gaze.

The streak on her window catches some sunlight ominously. "What do we do about…"

"I have bleach," Ben provides. "Can spray it down when we stop."

Rey quirks her brow. "You just carry bleach around with you?" With his business cards and whatever else.

He gestures to her window. "You never know."

Has a point. Rey isn't entirely accustomed to preparedness becoming such a… thing, and so quickly. Traffic moves again. Neither of them speak going through the empty tollbooth, the vestibule shut with a padlock. The surface is covered with stickers and notes. Some advertise music tracks and phone apps. Others are names & dates scrawled in hurried ink. A set of flyers prophecize the apocalypse above the coin catcher, where a beaded necklace lays with its charm displayed prominently:

 _save us_ ☄

Rey looks away, unsettled by the hollow feeling it gives her. Each of these people made the effort of leaving these messages here. The station wagon gets stopped again by the booth and she forces herself to read other portions of the display:

❤ _say hello to someone you love_ ❤

_things WILL get BETTER!_

_h a v e a g r e a t d a y_ 🌞

The notes range in colors, materials, and legibility, many paled or blotted from the outdoors. One poster is an abstract mesh of running ink. Many of these authors could be gone for all Rey knows. The small acts of kindness are… nice. In a whimsical way, like they've been collected for a museum exhibit.

Rey wants to smile but her lips won't move. The messages continue to the top of the empty vestibule. She leans forward and cranes her neck to see. A lonely neon yellow Post-It note (of all things) is tacked in the middle, black ink kicking her back to reality:

_the end is here_

She clicks her tongue, spotting huge bold letters in red spray paint above the display — two final words like an accidental title for it all:

**GO HOME**

"…Fucking kidding me," Rey whispers to herself.

"What?"

Ben lowers the radio and she turns to face him, realizes he was reading all the notes too. The emergency warning plays softly as she remarks,

"So on the nose."

Rey waves towards the graffiti and leaves it at that. Her grandfather's cabin in Vermont is the closest thing she has to a home right now, to get through the lockdown at least. Not that it feels like her home at all and — 

Fucking tollbooth trying to guilt her on top of everything.

"It's what everyone's trying to do right now," Ben offers.

She guesses so. The platitude works for the time being.

Traffic flows more smoothly once they're past the choke-point and on the bridge itself. They cruise at a low speed and Rey glances at the Manhattan skyline every few moments, admiring its stark outline against the clouds. Ben peeks over too, more obligatory than anything. He must have seen it many times before. She turns the music back up, focuses on familiar lyrics as she weaves onto the next portion of highway. They let a comfortable quiet settle in the station wagon, separated from the world and able to just…

Breathe.

Ben doesn't force her to speak or make awkward small talk. But he does tune the radio to a new station rather often, changing the genre but never the mood. Rey finds it more charming than irritating. Most of the satellite band stations have automated music playlists. Traffic reports and weather are read by bots. Several of the FM bands are hijacked by local hobbyists, vowing to continue airing from their homes no matter how bad it gets. AM stations still play the news, the talk show hosts barely concealing nervous breakdowns, and the preachers calling for prayers & salvation.

Rey follows the digital maps & tangible signs through the boroughs, memorizing the scenery in case she never returns. (Or it changes dramatically, she considers.) The second bridge they cross has cameras instead of tolls and runs a much shorter length. The roads get increasingly tighter, narrower lanes with sharper turns. Not unlike the circuitous rural paths where she learned to drive, just crowded with _a fuckload more people_ every which way. The highways remain mostly orderly, albeit slow moving, all the cars tucked in a valley created by brick co-op apartments soaring forty stories apiece. A couple of the overpasses are draped with hand scrawled banners:

_Wash Your Hands!_

_Can't Knock Out New York_ 💪

And Rey does her best to concentrate despite the thin smell of Ben's soap & sweat mixed with seat leather in the dry air conditioning. Even with him looking at her when he thinks she doesn't see. His gaze feels almost physical without being leering or invasive. She peeks over at him too, intrigued by the little ways his expressive features change when he spots something new or strange. The car isn't small but Ben still seems too large for its frame. He clears his throat soon after they see the first sign for the Parkway,

"I'm curious. About your funny story."

Rey blinks, caught off-guard. His voice seems deeper after the long stretch of silence.

She isn't sure what he means. "Which one?"

"The one you mentioned in the garage. How you got this car."

A lump swells in her throat. Rey glares at him playfully. "I thought you said you were quiet."

He replies without missing a beat. "I can be if you'd prefer."

She smirks. "Why do you want to know?"

"Already told you. Just curious."

She tries to invent a reasonable story, one without too many obvious questions. "Family friend dropped it off for me."

"Must be a close friend to give you a dealership car." 

Rey has no idea, really. "Yeah. Something like that." She raps her knuckles on the wheel. "How did you think I got it?"

She forces herself not to glance over when he asks, "Why?"

"I'm curious," she repeats.

He shrugs. "Figured you stole it. Found the keys in the terminal."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Well. You have a nice smile."

Rey blushes. Even a global pandemic doesn't change some things. Her stomach flips and she says, "I'll keep that in mind."

"For what?"

It's said just breathlessly enough for Rey to tell he really wants to know. The opening is there and she replies,

"…To flash my teeth before mugging you one day."

He grins, though the term's an exaggeration. Rey isn't sure how else to interpret the thin turn of his lips, the note of amusement tempering his short exhale. (A laugh? Maybe?) The action lightens his serious and gloomy mein. He sits up in the seat, watching the road in a dreamy sort of way.

"Your turn to pick the station," he tells her.

Rey nods and finds an automated playlist of mostly instrumental music, timing her motions on the pedals with the different rhythms. Traffic drains the gas and adds too many minutes to the clock. The color-coded pathways on the center console's map display are useless now, showing green at dead stops and red at flow points. Ben is a decent travel companion, mostly quiet as advertised, though the moments he does talk are pleasant — even insightful, with a weariness that implies a cynical outlook developed long before covid. They get along well enough, for total strangers anyway. Both find amusement looking into other vehicles; find interest in the makeshift signs posted over closed businesses; and find foreboding in the increasing numbers of abandoned cars and looted buildings.

"Yoga moms gone wild," Ben jokes, indicating a Whole Foods with broken windows and poorly-tied blue tarps.

Rey is enjoying this more than she expected she would leaving the garage — uncertain if she made the right decision, unsettled by the bonfire and the figure that disappeared. But Ben feels genuine… which is more than she can say about almost everyone else she's met these past couple years. After she got the voicemail that changed everything:

_This is a message for Rey Palpatine. Her grandfather wishes to speak to her. Please call back to provide your availability at your earliest convenience…_

The last real person she met was Rose and that's only 'cause Finn introduced them. Short-lived alliances, passing acquaintances, superficial friendships from temp jobs, and casual fucks got Rey through living out of her car. After managing to graduate high school somehow, having nowhere to go when she turned eighteen, and with Finn moving to follow his glamorous dreams of Living In The Big City…

…Rey took up her grandfather's offer for shelter even though she'd only seen his name in archived articles on newspaper webpages. Never tried to contact her when he was in prison all those years. No cards, no money, no shred of interest. Even though he must have heard about her parents at some point, found strung out and asleep at a stop sign with their small child humming in the carseat. Must have known about their deaths less than a year later. And Rey was so tired of the uncertainty (and couch surfing) and Palps was a "golden opportunity" knocking at her door — 

"You seem pensive," Ben remarks.

She manages to wink. "Something like that."

Rey wonders if she's semi-imagining her impression of Ben, inventing a disposition that makes their connection deeper than it really is. _Just giving a ride to a random guy from the airport. You've only known him for a few hours._

(The fantasy is fun nonetheless.)

They come to another stop where the road forks into two separate highways. Rey double-checks and triple-checks the signs nervously.

"This is the Merritt, yeah?"

"You're going the right way," Ben says.

The map display confirms it but she asks anyway, wound from the lowering needle on the gas tank. Rey unbuckles her seatbelt, leans into the back to fumble for her pack. She unzips the outside pocket, grabs one of her water bottles.

"Want yours?" she offers, spotting a metal canteen stuffed into the side pocket of his duffel bag.

"Yeah, thanks."

Rey twists around to retrieve Ben's water, wriggling to bend and reangle her hand to get it out of the mesh grip. She swears she can sense his eyes trail down her body — quickly, like a temptation he tries to resist — but tells herself she's getting carried away again. She huffs flopping back into her chair, drops his canteen on the middle console and takes a sip from her bottle.

Ben sips his drink too, casually rests the open container on his lap. "So why fly to Vermont? Not that far away."

"Well…"

She tries not to notice the object's placement, first redirecting her attention to his hands — but those are distracting too. Traffic moves a little bit, giving her a quick out and some moments to evade a thorough explanation. The car is odd enough, not to mention her grandfather chartering a small jet with his influence (and some threats, surely). She's still managed to avoid telling Ben her last name, fearful he'll recognize it somehow and instantly label her a criminal, a rich bitch, or —

"Hm?" he probes.

Rey realizes she hasn't answered. And that it's a stupid question anyway. She points right in front of them.

"Faster." There's a beat. "Not that it worked out."

Wouldn't have worked even if flights weren't grounded on her way there. She recalls Dooku mentioning offhand that the pilot bailed well before Rey called the cab. He passed it over like an afterthought, and a _they'll be dealt with,_ before explaining Palps's new instructions for heading north.

Of all the names that turned out to be hers… She had to get the one full of business associates, sketchy arrangements, strange errands, liquor runs, and a never-ending parade of visitors. Spent so much of her life feeling lonely & ashamed about not having a family, only to be self-conscious of the one she does have — 

She smirks outwardly at the irony. Fears that Ben could never understand. About grasping blindly for one's identity only to find a crazy fucking family.

"— What are you smiling about?"

It sounds… different when Ben speaks this time, notched just a little deeper to penetrate her bones. Rey tilts her head, keeps stopping and starting the Volvo dutifully.

"Stuff," she evades. No point in letting him get close. People prefer to talk about themselves anyways. "Doing anything fun after getting to Exit 42?"

"Just heading in for lockdown."

"Your ride from the airport already there?"

Ben reaches into his jacket for his phone, checks the notifications. "No." He pauses, putting it away instead of unlocking it. "Don't know what I expected really."

Ben doesn't elaborate and Rey doesn't pry. Too much. A part of her can't help it despite her own reticence:

"Have anyone waiting for you?"

"No," he replies. "Do you?"

No point in fibbing. "My grandfather. Sort of."

That seems to pique Ben's _curiosity_ again. "Sort of? Does he know you're coming?"

"Yes." There's a beat. "Just doesn't make much difference if I do."

Ben nods, eyes drifting back to the road. "I know what you mean."

His expression softens, maybe from his own memories. They pick up a little bit of speed and pass beneath a squat stone bridge, casting Ben's profile in shadow. He tenses his jaw.

"It's not always bad, being alone," Rey offers.

"Yeah. Used to it."

Says it like a matter-of-fact as opposed to a request for pity. Rey sighs as she repeats,

"I know what you mean…"

More tail lights. More feathering the brakes. They roll to a stop after less than two miles on the Parkway. The lanes are narrow with little to no shoulder in most spots and large trees planted in the median. Sunlight catches the dried spot on Rey's window, winding her nerves to a higher key.

The emergency signal for the lockdown announcement makes her flinch. One hand flies down to the gear shift and a tiny gasp leaves her lips when fingertips brush her forearm — 

"Are you okay?" Ben asks, snatching his hand from the cupholder like he's touched a flame.

Her cheeks flush. "I don't know…"

She meets his eyes. His hand rests on his thigh, inches from the shifter. And she isn't sure why she feels the energy changing, like they recognize a shared sadness in one another. One that neither of them have the words to explain, an understanding thickening the unspoken tension between them. An impulse strikes to push the boundary —

_Do it —_

Rey lays her hand on top of his.

"It's… It's okay," she says. "Thank you."

Ben is still, keeps holding her gaze. Her fingers slide around, feel his pulse racing at his wrist. She wonders if he senses her _curiosity_ too, that thrill of meeting someone new and tempting fate —

And potential exposure is not out of Rey's mind. Her gesture signals a tentative trust, a willingness to show comfort despite the risk.

Her fingertips lightly scratch his knuckles, her face blushing deeper. Ben flips his hand to hold hers, skims her palm with his thumb.

"…Thank you," he returns.

"Sure."

She tries to smile, wants to smile. Enjoys _this kind_ of physical contact after months without — he seems so near and Rey swears she hears a hitch in his breath —

**BEEP**

Rey remembers where she is and takes her hand away, attention snapping back to the road where the car in front has advanced several lengths. She rolls the Volvo forward to another stop, taps her fingers on the gear shift nervously.

This time Ben takes her hand, covering hers beneath his wide span. They're large and strong and she doesn't mind when he squeezes hers gently.

_Maybe he's just as lost and lonely as…_

No. Rey chides herself for another brief fantasy. Even as he tells her,

"You're not alone."

For some reason the comment stings. Something she's barely heard her whole life. Coming from a stranger with a sympathetic ear.

She blinks. "Neither are you."

Traffic moves again and Rey lets him hold her hand. It's just… pleasant to have this small relief from a world spinning out of control. To feel like someone cares. Even a totally fucking random guy whose backstory she's inventing already. She justifies it to herself: neither of them wear gloves, assume the car is clean, sit so near to one another. He would have infected her already.

…And a part of Rey wonders if she'll ever tire of the tiny thrill she feels being touched like this. After so many years of longing with scarcely any at all. Still seeking it out in ways she probably shouldn't.

But right now, with Ben, it seems okay. Only so many minutes left before she drops him off, never sees him again. His touch is soft. His size makes her feel safe. Finally the traffic picks up and the low gas indicator buzzes on.

"Shit," Rey mutters, checking the mile marker and seeing a sign just too many yards away to read.

She glances towards Ben, who watches their clasped hands. He looks up when she asks,

"Is there gas around here?"

"Should be at this next exit."

Rey nods and unbuckles her seatbelt, leaning over the steering wheel to try and see how many miles…

**BEEP**

"Oh fuck —"

She leaps back into the chair, surprising herself with a high-pitched meep. Finally her lips part to show her teeth, flashing a bright smile. And she laughs for being so startled, for the lucky coincidence that the SUV in front of them drives a few lengths ahead.

Ben smiles back. For real this time. He takes a sip of water. "Should be less than a mile. We'll make it."

Rey feels thirsty too. Consciously steadies her hand reaching down for her own drink.

"Definitely."

Rey wets her lips and swigs again, throat still dry. Wants to roll down the windows but is too scared with those red flecks peeling away. She realizes she's been staring at the spot again too long, stomach lurching with the same fear she felt at the tollbooth earlier —

"I can spray it down before you get out," Ben offers.

She tries to play off being flattered despite his saying exactly what she wants to hear. Even adds a _confident wink_ to

"I'd like that."

Rey places both hands on the steering wheel. Ben's return to his lap. She concentrates on keeping her cool, on pushing away the competing needles & flutters in her chest. Hopefully the cleaner is effective. And whatever gas station they find is stocked with fuel. And —

The highway sign is tagged with boldly colored bubble letters. _FUCK THE COVID._

Ben deadpans, "Can't say I disagree."

Rey chuckles. "It's good luck."

The blinker clicks. The station wagon pulls into the exit lane, goes down an incline to a red light on a large road. The kind that looks like it should be busy. A gas station is only a right turn and a couple blocks away.

This worked out at least. The light turns green and they pull into the empty gas station, stopping at the first unoccupied pump.

Rey turns the key. The engine whirrs off.

She exhales a low sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics)
> 
> Thanks again 💕


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what to say. Surprised by how quickly this update was written. This story has been a good distraction so just gonna keep going. Upped the chapter count to 6, don't see it going longer than that (I swear 😂). Thank you for reading and glad you've enjoyed so far. Hope you are feeling well and staying safe 💝
> 
> Thank you again to [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weddersins/) for your encouragement and support 
> 
> Here we go:

The gas station seems normal enough. Lights are on, everything appears to be working, and there's a dented crossover parked by the propane refill. The hose for the tire air pump is uncoiled on the pavement like a skinny little snake. There's no garage or car wash attached to the store, which is brightly lit with a decent amount of stock visible through the windows. Signs for cigarette prices are covered with brightly colored notices. Rey can't read them from this distance, but has a good idea what they say:

_Wash your hands!_

_Do not come inside if you are sick!_

_Open during lockdown!_

The Volvo's passenger door is next to the pump, a little far but Ben can get out easily. He leaves it half-open, goes into the back and unzips his duffel bag. Rey turns around to watch him rummage through his things, dark hair falling over his prominent nose. He carries himself with an intensity even at rest, and she can't help but find it intriguing.

"Forget your bleach?" she asks.

Ben glances up. "No."

And returns to his task, undoing another inside pocket and slipping a plastic square into his hand.

"Oh, it's, um…" Rey reaches for her bag to get cash.

"Let me," he insists. "Extra weight."

She's not going to argue, biting the skin behind her lip. He whips out a refillable spray bottle, twirling the nozzle on his fingers like a modern prepper cowboy.

"Fancy," she comments.

He moves to squirt Rey with the cleaner, snatching it away when she recoils with a tiny gasp.

"Have to work on your quick draw," he says.

 _Fuck, she's so jumpy._ Rey worries she appears shy and skittish, rather than presenting the hardened exterior she wears normally. Ben doesn't seem to mind, stuffs a pair of disposable gloves in another pocket before shutting the rear door.

The station wagon seems quiet, even with the passenger door cracked open. She watches Ben's precise movements through the windows. He pinches the paycard between his fingertips, careful not to touch the pump's reader with his skin. He spritzes the card down before placing it inside his jacket. Puts on the gloves to key in the zip code, choose the gas grade. Even uses his elbow to unlock the tank.

Rey just uses sanitizer after pumping gas. Not that she's driven a car in several days, coming down to the City by train to visit Finn and Rose. The virus has spread exponentially since then. Maybe Ben's meticulous caution is more common now.

Makes her less worried about potential infection from her unexpected companion, either way. And she appreciates the view of his back & jeans as he watches the pump with his gloved hands by his sides. 

"Should I wash the other windows while I'm here?"

Ben's voice stirs her from her reverie. "Oh, no, it's fine…"

Maybe he was joking. She can't really tell. Rey crosses her arms, examines the tiny red dots left behind on the thick shatterproof glass. Most of the saliva is dried & gone from driving around, but she knows the contagion lingers. Last she heard it was 48 hours on surfaces. And has no idea how it responds to outdoor elements, really.

_It's all so confusing._

The pump's automatic shutdown clacks loudly. Ben tops off the tank before putting away the nozzle. No receipt prints from the machine. He throws away his gloves and returns to the passenger side. Rests his arms on the car's roof and peers through the opened door.

"I'll get that one side either way," he tells her, not needing to specify which he means.

"Sounds good."

Another pause. They hold one another's gaze. It lasts too many seconds to be accidental. She wrings her crossed arms a little closer over her chest. He's so… _large_ casually leaning on the car, broad and solid, a decent amount older, and able to keep her safe. The errant thought makes her feel like a little kid, wanting to be protected from a big bad virus they can't even see. Like when she cocooned under the covers in her bottom bunk, listening to her first guardian Plutt shouting downstairs. The bedsprings above her squeaked as her roommate tried to sleep.

(Rey hated that house. And she hates feeling like a child, which has been too often lately. Still gaping at news reports in disbelief.)

She attempts some humor to redirect her mind, pointing to the streak. "This spot right here, cowpoke."

He mimes tipping the brim of his cap and closes the door.

Ben gets another pair of disposable gloves for his work. They look thin and cheap, definitely not medical grade. He circles around the hood of the car, taking the squirt bottle from his pocket as he approaches her door. Rey knows he can't spot her through the tinted window but swears she sees him wink through the glass.

Her hands drop to her lap observing Ben's blurry shape through the cleaner, dripping down in thin streaks. The stuff is strong, has a thin chemical odor even in the car. Ben doesn't cut any corners, spraying down the entire door. He takes a wad of paper towels from a near-empty roll hanging off a pump across the way. Uses one of the station's squeegees to wipe the first round of cleaner, sprays down the door again.

Rey takes the opportunity to study Ben closely when she knows he cannot see, assessing the cut & build of his body under his white t-shirt. His leather jacket is worn and kind of plain, with some zippers in odd places and frays along one bottom hem. Ben's features seem severe when he's locked into focus, his jaw tense beneath furrowed brows. Not in an unattractive way. Something about him draws her in…

Or maybe her own loneliness imagines it instead.

A couple more minutes pass. Rey maps the size of his hands on the window, briefly pictures them kneading down her chest. She shakes her head to banish the thought and unconsciously resettles her hips, shifting in her seat.

"Should be good. Wouldn't touch it or anything."

Ben raises his voice, not sure if she can hear. He discards the gloves and towels, displays both sides of his bare hands to the windshield to show Rey he's done. She swallows hard, straightening her posture and fluffing her hair for when he — 

**click**

Ben opens the door without any ceremony, without poking his head inside to see her carefully placed limbs. She hesitates briefly.

"Want to stretch your legs?" he offers innocently.

"Yeah," she answers. And takes a deep breath.

Rey exits the vehicle, purposefully not touching anything except the ground. She wobbles to a stand. Wiggles her toes. Her shoes feel strange on her feet after sitting in traffic for so fucking long. She pulls down the bottom of her shirt, her cheeks heating when she spins around and catches Ben glancing lower than her face.

He looks up quickly, hands retreating to his jacket's pockets.

"Fresh air is nice," she remarks.

Rey bobs on her toes, stretches her arms above her head. Jumps a few times in place with a lopsided grin. Ben thinks she doesn't notice him peek down at her tits. She stops and exhales slowly, spotting the shiny puddle of water & chemicals beneath the driver's side door. Sure, he happens to carry bleach on him, but he entertained her fear —

_"entertained" isn't the right word_

_he put himself in danger_

— so she didn't have to clean the biohazard herself. Considering her first instead of further down the line, instead of forgetting her entirely. She realizes she's fiddling with her hair, stops and exhales slowly. Her body refuses to unwind after hours of being on edge. The cab, the airport, the keys, the car, and the whole trip down here. At least she got to share some temporary camaraderie with Ben. Before she leaves him at his exit never to be seen again.

It's important that she remind herself of that. Before acting too foolish. She has hours to look forward to in traffic alone.

But she appreciates Ben's gesture much more than he can probably understand.

"Thank you," Rey says.

She closes the distance between them, rests her palm on his elbow. Curls her fingers around his arm, giving it a little squeeze. His muscles are sturdy beneath the jacket's leather.

Ben flinches beneath her touch.

"Of course," he replies. Like he never second guessed it at all.

(Rey tells herself she's getting carried away.)

"Really," she adds. "Thank you."

"Sure."

He takes his hand from his pocket to hold hers. Clasps tight for a single heartbeat in return. A longing they seem to share looms larger —

_for some kind of connection: to each other, to their futures, to the world falling apart around them_

— And for these seconds Rey feels like she's not alone.

Ben studies her face. A car with a busted muffler passes on the road.

"You want to see what's in there?" he asks.

They shouldn't risk going into the store, but she'd hate to turn down potential supplies for the road. Gas is an essential service, the owner must be keeping it clean. That or she wants to satisfy her morbid curiosity to see what things look like now that she's out of New York City. Both fit her conflicting moods.

"Why not?" she agrees.

Neither of them state the obvious things: chaos and exposure. Their entire journey up here was much slower and messier than Rey anticipated. The distance to Vermont feels further than when she started, and increasingly less attainable.

Rey looks away to the store, notices Ben do the same in her periphery. The man tending the front ducks under the counter, walks a bit too fast into a back room. A light flickers through one of the windows covered by vape advertisements. The paper is thin enough to see the man's silhouette speak with another figure before disappearing out of view…

Her instincts whisper to flee.

Ben drops her hand. Goes into the backseat for more gloves before Rey mentions anything. He bends over to search his pack and she decides to steal a glance of her own too.

"You have a mask?" he calls out.

"No," she admits.

Ben wasn't wearing one when they met, hasn't mentioned them yet. Maybe he got that sense of something off too. With medical grade supplies so low nationwide, most of them aren't much use anyway. Aren't many effective ones for public sale, most people using cheap imitations for comfort or a semblance of control.

She can understand wanting both those things, especially right now.

Ben returns wearing a black mask that covers his mouth & nose, finely-stitched from a thick high-quality cloth. He wears another set of disposable gloves, holding out a pair for Rey in one hand with a second mask dangling from his wrist.

"Doesn't hurt," he says.

Doesn't really help either. "Yeah."

The gloves are meant for Ben's hands instead of hers and look like deflated sausages on her slim fingers. She yanks down the ends for a snugger fit to no avail. The second mask is sewn from a checkered fabric with thick white stitches meant to mimic ribbons. Rey manages to get it on without too much trouble, even with the gloves sticking to her hair.

"Have any floral print available?" she quips, voice muffled. The mask is gauzey against her skin, making it tricky to breathe through her covered nose.

"There's a paisley too."

Ben scans their surroundings once more, making a final assessment. His eyes belie more concern than his tone lets on.

"Could use a coffee."

And he turns away to head inside, marching with the practiced discipline of a readied soldier. The sky dims to a deeper shade of blue, another reminder that she's falling further behind schedule. Ben takes a few steps, spins around and gestures for Rey to follow.

"Yeah yeah…"

She catches up with hurried strides, the clap of shoes on pavement echoing over the empty lot. The strip mall across the way is totally closed with metal shutters — the entire property filled with offices, specialty stores, and other non-essential services. A van drives by, then a pair of motorcycles. The door squeaks entering the store, more ominous than it probably should be.

Ben holds it open for her. A chime sounds as the hinges creak slowly closed.

"May I help you?"

A middle-aged man pops out from one of the displays of chips and beef jerky. Only a few inches taller than Rey, his forehead creased with visible concern. He sounds too eager to assist them, almost as if he doesn't want them to poke around long. 

Not that Rey can blame him given the current situation. But this seems… different. Perspiration shines his brow. His eyes are buggy behind wire-rimmed glasses, darting towards the refrigerators more than her & Ben. The store is unremarkable, kind of shabby but everything is tidy and half-stocked. She spots individually-wrapped candy bars at the counter, meal bars in the aisles, and a wide variety of cold sodas in the —

**thump**

An object falls to the floor in an unseen room. Rey and Ben look at one another for a second, know they heard the same thing —

Then someone coughs.

Hacking. Dry. Heaving.

They freeze. Rey's breaths seem too loud behind her mask, struggling to remain silent when Ben takes a step forward.

"What was that?" he asks, gesturing to the backroom where they saw the figure earlier.

"What did you say?"

The man pretends not to hear. Even as the noise starts again, throatier with a rattling wheeze. The flourescent lights striping the drop-tile ceiling bend into something menacing, casting the store with an artificial glare — washing it all to be even more lifeless than when they came —

"Nothing," Ben recovers, deciding not to pursue it. He looks back at Rey, narrowed eyes communicating a silent command to leave.

Her heart thuds against her ribs. Not with excitement or anticipation or anything but a visceral **fear**. She reminds herself they're much more than six feet away, halting only a couple feet from the front door. The dumb checkered mask is suffocating. Her heart hurts, head getting dizzy and overwhelmed already.

"May I help you?" the man repeats, ringing clear above the tiny buzz from the artificial lights.

"No thanks," Ben says. "We're fine, actually."

_We._

The man insists, "Are you sure —"

"Yes. We're sure."

Rey staggers towards the door. "Yeah, just gonna go, um…"

And she meets the stranger's eyes, widening when they hear the terrible cough again. Violent enough for the person to collapse to the floor. The man's expression slips, belying a quiet panic as he waits for them to leave. She makes a final effort to act like their visit was normal:

"Bye," Rey squeaks.

She keeps going backwards, using her weight to push open the door. Her own feet get in the way of her intense need to flee, nearly tripping over herself to keep the door propped for Ben.

"Thanks for the gas," he calls back to the man, not bothering to see his reaction.

The chime sings to accompany their exit, fading over the deserted street like the end note to a tragic scene. Rey walks too quickly to the Volvo to appear casual, her pulse racing as she circles around the trunk to the first trash can she sees —

All her veins are threaded by an unsettling **dread**. Rey strips off the gloves inside out, grimacing under her mask. Pictures the exteriors slathered in contagion that will never be clean, even if transmission was incredibly unlikely. Her lungs feel heavy & shallow, her mind cobbling together all sorts of reasons for why the man would risk his business and himself like that:

_Fear. Same as everyone else. Fear that whoever he's hiding will die alone. Won't be able to get care. Maybe they're too old. Were too ill before. Or maybe they just can't afford the bills, the deductible, or have no way to pay for it at all._

_Or maybe he just doesn't care if he dies._

Rey shudders, shaking her head to banish another intrusive thought. Told herself a thousand times she won't avoid the emergency room if she needs it. Worst case scenario, if she ends up in bottomless debt, she's transient enough to change her identity. Probably. Another consideration that's crossed her mind more times than she should probably admit.

She pulls the mask down and gasps for fresh air, chest rising as she inhales deeply. Rey balances on the trunk, working to regain her balance — 

"Rey?"

Ben approaches with heavy footsteps. He stops beside her, several inches away. She senses his hand hovering near her shoulder, determining how to proceed. 

"Are you…"

Rey opens her eyes, glassy and unfocused. "I'll be okay —"

A sportscar revs its engine tearing down the road. The unexpected sound cuts the tension enough for Rey's heart to slow to a normal speed.

She adds hastily, "Really."

Wipes away a tear with her sleeve. Ben studies her ruddied skin and forlorn defeat with genuine sympathy. Seems that way at least. She's so fucking disoriented from everything happening that she'll read it that way for her own sake. 

He accepts the lie, not prying any further.

Still rests his hand on her shoulder hesitantly.

And Rey can't help trying to convince herself aloud,

"We were nowhere near either of them. Far away, masks and gloves on too."

"Right," Ben agrees.

He's already shed his gloves. He tugs his mask down to show his face, memorizing every curve and plane of hers.

"I just got so…" Rey is reluctant to admit it. "Scared."

There's a beat. 

"Me too." And he means it. "It's okay."

Rey exhales slowly from her nose. "Yeah."

Another silence settles while they wait for the moment to pass. Not wanting to break the illusion of possibility. But they haven't checked the time in awhile. And Rey has somewhere to go with a very hard deadline. Ben peeks down at her bitten lips, darts up to her eyes again.

Rey mumbles, "We should…"

"Yeah."

Ben cuts ahead of her to open the driver's side door. The handle is well below where the guy coughed on the window, but Ben's demeanor doesn't read as an act of romance or chivalry —

Instead an attempt to soothe her rattled nerves.

Rey appreciates it nonetheless. Takes it as… kind and thoughtful, rather than out of pity. She unties the mask heading to the driver's seat, sits sideways with her feet on the pavement to see Ben.

"How far are we from your exit?" She holds out the mask, patting her messed hair. 

"Twenty minutes on a good day."

"Great," Rey sighs.

She doubles it. Adds twenty. Maybe she's overestimating, but better to be safe than sorry. She flips down the sun visor to check her buns in the tiny mirror. Can barely see them, leans in to assess further in the rearview.

"Still have hours until the lockdown," Ben says.

Rey turns on the ignition. The Volvo makes some fancy start-up noise. The time flashes on the display, confirming Ben's estimate. That's a small relief.

Her phone is flashing in the cupholder. Rey bites her tongue when she realizes she forgot to take it into the store. (What if they hadn't left like that? Someone could have stolen it easily.) There's a missed call notification on the side banner lock display. Her stomach lurches all over again —

Rey raises a finger. "Just a sec."

And swipes her code to see who rang:

📞 **Palps** 🏢

Great. Voicemail too. Probably Dooku telling her off for texting her grandfather's mobile instead of calling the house line as instructed. Rey drops the phone into her lap with a frown, starts to untie her hair. Hopeless from fumbling on the mask with the floppy gloves anyway.

Ben is obviously curious, shifting his weight at his perch a couple feet from the opened door.

"It's nothing," Rey claims. She leaves two hairbands on her slim wrist, tying her hair half-up to let its length frame her face.

"Okay," she hears Ben reply as she checks her appearance once more before closing the visor.

Rey starts, "Yeah, just —"

The phone vibrates on her thighs, scooting on her leg for her immediate attention. The caller ID displays the tag:

📞 **Palps** 🏠

Her grandfather is ringing again, calling her personally. She fails to hide her reaction, face changing enough for Ben to ask,

"You need to take that?"

She really should. "Yeah. Sorry, I…"

"It's fine."

Ben's enormous hands retreat to his pockets once more and he strolls away. He lingers several feet in front, staying within her line of sight. She sweeps her thumb over the phone to answer the call, watching Ben pace by the gas pumps.

"Rey."

Her grandfather's voice crackles over the speakers, automatically connecting to the Bluetooth. Ben glances up, hears the greeting even at a distance. She manages to answer flatly,

"Palps."

He sighs. Hates it that she calls him that instead of something normal like Grandpa or Pops. _Palps is close enough_ was her usual retort until he stopped bothering to ask. His intake of breath is sharp & slow as usual.

"Are you on the Merritt?"

Rey avoids looking at Ben, sees him peeking at the windshield from the corner of her eye. She swings her feet into the car, pausing too long:

"Rey, are you —"

"No. Got off to get gas." Her voice cracks. "O- One second —"

She grinds her jaw fiddling with her phone to disconnect the call from the car's speakers. Her phone glows brighter to confirm the changed setting, her shoulders visibly relaxing with relief.

"Sorry, can hear you better now," Rey says, closing her door to cut off Ben completely.

"Where?" Palps barks.

"Where what?"

"Are you getting gas?"

"Um…" She isn't really sure. "Near exit 42, I think."

Palps hums, his wrinkled mug probably deeply creased in deliberation. "Don't get back on there."

"On the Merritt?" Rey bolts upright, unnerved by his severity. "How do I —"

"Overturned rental truck outside a tunnel, well ahead of you. Asshole ignored the low clearance signs, didn't see 'em, whatever. Braked in time to avoid a haircut, 'caused an eight-car pileup instead."

Her breaths are shallow again. Rey closes her eyes, inhaling deeply as her grandfather continues,

"Whole side of the tunnel is closed. Pretty serious shit. Car on fire, other side at a crawl rubbernecking the whole way…"

"Shit," she mutters into the receiver. Ben glances over at the store occasionally.

"Shit is right," Palps says. "Should be able to take 95 around and —"

"I-95?" she echoes, not fully aware of what she's saying.

"Yes, I-95, and connect back to —"

"One second —"

Rey takes the receiver from her ear, puts her grandfather on speaker as she pulls up the phone's maps. She pinches the image to zoom out, sees a handful of dark blue highways spidering up & down the display like veins.

"I have the map up," she announces. "I don't know…" She fiddles with the options, fingers shaking. "I don't know how to get there."

"I don't know where you are," Palps tuts. "But once you're on 95…"

He drones on the same way as Dooku, not far removed from his proxy in air and attitude. Rey tries to digest every word, following along on the map as best she can,

"Wait, slow down a sec — Go back —"

"How far?" Palps grumbles.

"Back to, um —"

He sighs, "I don't know where 'um' is —"

"Fuck, can you not —"

"Watch your language with me."

Palps doesn't say that unless he's getting really angry. Trying not to let his frustration with her contrary attitude boil over.

"Doesn't the computer on the phone make a map for you anyway?" Palps exclaims.

"Yes, but — the traffic is all off and —"

"There will likely be another detour before you make it up here, Rey. Just…"

He trails off and tears well in her eyes once more. Her route and circumstances keep changing, the journey becoming impossible to predict. Being accustomed to a lifetime of inconsistency never makes it easier, especially with these kinds of stakes.

Her words tremble. "O- Okay, I'll find 95 and —"

"Buck up," he says coolly. "You'll make it here one way or another."

A distant attempt to be caring, sounding too offhand to be meaningful. Her entire alignment is too unbalanced to determine its authenticity, too stressed by having to figure out new directions — not to mention the matter of Ben. His back is turned to the windshield as he stares at the road, apparently lost in thought.

"I- I'll try," Rey manages.

"Wouldn't be in this mess if you started your way up here days ago, like the news —"

Her ribs hurt, the reminder digging deep like a twisting knife. Articulating the very same guilt she's repressed all day, knowing damn well her procrastination put her in this position. Even Finn took her aside yesterday morning, offering to drive her to a bus station or airport or anywhere —

_I'll get there when I get there._

"I- I know," she croaks. "Okay? I know."

"Would do you good to listen to Dooku sometimes too."

"Palps, I'm not —"

Rey flops back into the seat with a huff before saying something she'll regret. Ben is glancing back at the windshield more frequently, no doubt curious about what's taking so long.

"Palps," she restarts. "Who's there with you?"

"Five of us here."

"Including you and Dooku?"

"Yeah."

She groans, rests her forehead on the steering wheel. "You're not supposed to have social gatherings of —"

"Social gathering," he scoffs. "Always here. Practically family."

His circle of sad lonely men, most of them divorced and estranged from their kids after doing hard time. Playing cards at her grandfather's table, green felt topper paling from age & use, browned along the edges from decades of cigar smoke.

"Call when you're on 95," he concludes with a click of his tongue. A nervous habit that Rey was surprised to find that they share, when first discovered.

"But —"

"On the house phone. Don't just text or whatever you do nowadays —"

"But I'm coming from New York. I could get you all sick —"

"If you were sick, you would know, young or not." Rey's skin starts to crawl again. "Get to 95 and we'll reconvene then."

He barks instructions like he's talking to a messenger, but it's tempered by a softness she's rarely heard from him before. His voice comes low,

"Rey? Be careful. Please."

She pauses. "I will."

"Thanks."

And Palps ends the call. The phone goes dark and Rey tosses it into the passenger seat, clenching her fists on her knees to fight back tears. Her nose is runny and she sniffles loudly, looking down at her lap so Ben doesn't notice her getting… emotional. Again. How many times has it been today, just one thing after another and —

She's crying. Her cheeks are hot, her sleeves sting her puffy eyes. No tissues or napkins in the middle console to hide what's happening. That uneasy dizzy sensation buries her in its intensity, her throat is too tight and the station wagon seems far far too small…

Rey leans into the door to open it, nearly toppling out of the car. Unable to situate the location of her limbs, vision and mind too clouded by another obstacle thrown in her path. Ben notices immediately, she hears him rushing to join her side,

"Rey, are you —"

"No."

No point in lying, not when she's wiping her mouth, trying to conceal her deeply flushed skin.

"What's wrong?"

Ben places his hands on her shoulders, long fingers keeping her upright and steady. His smell fills her nose, comforting and so close. Just another wrench in her plans, she tells herself, there's no reason to get so upset —

"Everything's okay." Rey inhales sharply, looking at the collar of Ben's shirt instead of his eyes. "It'll be fine. Just need to detour to 95. That's all."

"Are you sure? You just said —"

"There was a wreck by some tunnel, road's closed ahead. If I left earlier, then I wouldn't be having to figure this all out on the fly like this, or —"

"Or you could have been in the wreck too."

Her breath catches. She meant leaving much earlier than that, but the sentiment feels meaningful nonetheless. Maybe he's right. Maybe he's…

"Thank you," Rey murmurs.

His fingers brush her clothes, trying to reassure her. "You can get to 95 from around here. If you need directions."

She nods. "What about your exit?"

He shrugs. "Take the parkway or go the backroads. Up to you."

Rey wets her lips. Summons the courage to make eye contact with Ben. His gaze isn't disgusted, skeptical, or patronizing — instead transmits a silent communication that rings solid and clear:

_He understands._

"H- How long do the backroads take?"

"Thirty. Forty minutes maybe. Depends on lights, volume, other things."

She nods, deliberating which course to take. Ben adds,

"You can leave me off at the driveway or further away. At another exit. If you don't want to come inside."

Trying to limit inconveniencing her. Not wanting her to feel too obligated to go out of her way. His hand comes up a little higher, thumb feathering the side of her neck. She wonders if he can feel her pulse picking up, ignited by his being so near.

"We can go," she hears herself saying. "To wherever you're staying."

"O- Okay," he says haltingly. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." She shrugs his palms away. "I'm sure."

Rey dabs her face a final time, sniffling and shifting her feet. That light in the backroom of the store flickers again, reminding her of what transpired so shortly ago. The man ducks out from behind the counter again. Comes up to the glass door, shielding his eyes like he's blocking out sunlight. Observing Rey and Ben very very obviously. Probably wondering why the fuck they haven't left yet after causing such an awkward scene.

Ben notices him too. Rey leans in, squeezes Ben's arm again. Lets her hand trail down to his wrist, skimming the soft skin before lacing her fingers with his. She watches their hands, feels him staring hard at her hidden face:

"Thank you. Seriously."

"Of course," he whispers, like he feels something changing too.

"You've been good company."

She likes how small she feels being held by him. Even just like this. That tension winds between them again —

"You too," he returns.

"You want to drive?"

She smiles and meets his eyes once more, her tone light and teasing. He clasps her hand a little harder with a smirk.

"Not worried about me wrecking your ride?"

Rey shrugs. "Not really."

"You can admire the scenery."

"Something like that."

They stand for several seconds more, reluctant to let go of the other. Ben severs the moment's connection despite Rey being on a tight schedule, dropping her hand and reopening the driver's side door carefully. Rey frowns when she realizes she's left the car running this whole time, too scattered to cut off the ignition when she started crying like —

"It's a nice ride," Ben tells her, distracting her at the perfect time. "Grew up around here."

Rey gets in through the passenger side. Ben makes a bunch of noise adjusting the chair and mirrors from her size to his. She clicks on her seatbelt, checks her pockets & bag to confirm nothing is unzipped or missing.

"Ready?" he asks.

His hand drops from the rearview mirror to the gear shift, foot perched on the brake. Rey grins with all her teeth, relieved that she can have these minutes to sit & breathe. She bends in and rests her palm on his hand, speaks close to his ear,

"Ready if you are, cowpoke."

Rey leans back as Ben reverses the car, fluttering with something besides anxiety as they pull out of the lot. He doesn't bother to use a blinker, taking a right and driving further away from the highway. The road grows skinner, circuitous, and bordered by thick growths of trees.

Rey pretends to admire it all outside the windshield, keeps peeking over to watch Ben drive instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics)
> 
> Thank you 💞


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My state went under lockdown since last posting, up to 12k cases here. Not a ton right by me yet, thankfully. Hope everyone is staying safe and feeling okay 💕
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. The feedback to this has been amazing and very unexpected, I really appreciate it. Haven't upped the chapter count to 7 yet, but suspect we're heading there 😅
> 
> Thank you again to [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weddersins/) for beta reading and being an amazing friend 😇
> 
> Here we go:

The scenery is nice like Ben said it would be, two lane roads most of the way with lots of… trees. More evergreens further north by her grandfather's cabin, covering the mountains all seasons. The land dips & climbs here too, but not at the same high grades. Rey notices very few spin-out warnings for trucks, maybe one or two the whole way. She's used to seeing them everywhere in Vermont.

Rey doesn't mean to compare everything, noticing little similarities every few miles. But she supposes she has no other measure available. She's never spent time in Connecticut before.

_It's all New England,_ Rey tells herself. They pass another white house with black window shutters. Drive through a meticulously-cleaned "main drag of town" with cobblestone sidewalks and wood planks boarding the store windows. A tiny movie theater has "CLOSED FOR COVID" playing on both screens. Most gas stations are open, their bright logos visible from many yards away. The late afternoon blues to early evening much quicker than Rey realized it would, tapping her fingers on the passenger door armrest as she checks the time.

"You'll be fine," Ben says, correctly guessing what's on her mind.

"Gonna take all night to get there," she sighs. If traffic remains as heavy and inconsistent as it has been. 

"You'll make it before morning."

The blinker ends Ben's sentence with its rhythmic clicking, waiting to take a left at a red light with no cars coming from either end. They go with the green light, passing in between sleepy towns. Many houses are set far from the road, their bright windows bobbing like lanterns when speeding by. They grow larger the further they go from the highway, sprawling from ranches & two-story boxes to larger mansions with four car garages. Before long the car is in another town — even fancier than the last, with designer brand names above many store windows. A river bisects the avenues, spanned by a simple gray bridge decorated with American flags every few feet like medieval spokes.

The sun seems to be setting so much faster since leaving the gas station, barely visible over the trees & jagged horizons most of the way. Rey stares out the window over the bridge, able to see the full view. The water is picture perfect with tiny ripples and reflections of fluffy clouds. She spots some sailboats moored to a dock faraway. Another car with its brights on turning to disappear on a distant road. More boutiques and banks on the other side of the bridge, too. 

This is a lot nicer than anywhere Rey's ever lived. "Where are we?"

"Westport," Ben answers.

"Okay."

He provides conversationally, "There was a super spreader party here. Right in the beginning."

"Really?"

"Mhm," Ben hums. "Can't convince anyone that they don't know best until it's too late."

Sounds familiar. Her grandfather, the willfully ignorant, and plenty of dangerous contrarians on TV are the same. A couple stores have broken windows, leaving one mannequin without a purse or head. One block's signage is a multicolored graffiti display.

"Rich hipsters getting angry?" Rey jokes. "More social unrest?"

He shakes his head. "Probably just their kids trying to act tough."

It occurs to her that Ben said he grew up around here, he may think less of her if —

_No. It doesn't matter._

_Don't ruin the fantasy._

He supplies, "House is like five, ten minutes from here. Won't be bothering you much longer."

And Rey presses her lips to a line, stiffening her posture and straightening the seat. No point in thinking about anything else right now, when she has these last moments with Ben. When she can pretend they're driving after spending a day on a rocky beach, daring the other to tread further into the cold water. Then they'd go a food stand in the park before heading home and —

_Home. Wouldn't that be nice too._

(She chuckles at how the one she imagines with Ben is so quaint. As if girls like her ever find such things.)

_Fuck, this ride north will be so lonely._

— And Ben drops one hand from the steering wheel to take a sip of his water. Looks at Rey from the corner of his eye before setting it down. He leaves his hand on the gear shift, where he held hers before.

Not gonna have the chance again. She asks, "Your hand cold?"

He stays focused on the road. "Maybe."

"Here." She rests her palm on his knuckles, slender over his wide span. "I'll warm it up for you."

His smile is thin in profile, but brightens that somber demeanor he's mostly kept throughout their trip. Rey laces her fingers through his, blushing when he tells her,

"You make a good mitten."

"Don't have those in your bag too?"

He chuckles. "Not this time of year."

The position doesn't seem to disrupt Ben's driving — and she holds still, the brief connection they've found deepening in these last minutes. A car with one headlight out passes on the other side. It reminds Rey of a song she used to hear a lot several years ago. She turns the radio off, already tuned too low for them to hear. Surveys her freckles in the warped side-mirror, blotchy from crying and rubbing the skin. She flicks away some wisps of brown hair sticking to her neck & cheeks. Looks over at Ben, angled on the seat to steer with one hand as he holds hers with the other. That nearly imperceptible smile remains beneath his softened eyes, like he's navigating a strange dream…

She can relate. Their surroundings feel oddly hollow, the dimming sunlight casting everything in a bold relief. Trees and roofs create stark jutting shapes against the sky. The houses are set far apart, nearly all of them lit with their occupants having nowhere to go —

But they do have one another. The musing weighs in her stomach like a stone. When she returns to Vermont, she'll be trapped picking up around the cabin and puttering in her room. 

Alone. As usual.

She squeezes Ben's hand.

He murmurs, "Almost there…"

…with a hush of caution, as if his mind wanders to the same places hers do. Similarly self-conscious of letting it slip. Rey allows the vision to unravel in her thoughts, continuing the prior image with them laughing while walking away from the shore. They ride in this same Volvo with the moonroof opened, Rey sticking her arms out with her tank top rolling up her half-dried swimsuit. Ben kisses her waist at a stoplight, jokes for her to watch for trolls under the bridges…

Rey closes her eyes, lets herself enjoy the idle daydream. Her body sways with the car braking at an intersection she can't see. Ben's skin isn't particularly warm, but his touch feels right — as if they were meant to meet — 

Rey clasps his hand with both of hers and pulls it into her lap. She presses her thumb on his wrist, his pulse racing beneath her touch. Hears him adjust how he sits before depressing the accelerator — 

The engine hums under Rey's hips, fuzzing the leather seat as she thinks about his… proximity.

Ben slips his palm to the side, slides slowly to settle on her thigh. He clutches just a little tighter, fingertips shuddering against the fabric of her worn-down jeans. His hand covers most of her leg easily, makes her limbs seem small & blanketed beneath.

Rey stays absolutely still, her own heart picking up speed — lingering to make it last as long as she can, this teetering sensation of endless possibility.

She feels the car slow. The blinker starts clicking. A slight change in Ben's grip tells her it's the final turn. The station wagon lumbers over a lip in the pavement, evening out on a mostly smooth driveway. A couple winter potholes are still unfilled, Ben's hand unmoving when the divets bump the vehicle's suspension briefly.

Rey doesn't need to see it to know. The car's vibrations dim in time with Ben's slowing speed. Her throat dries as the station wagon crawls to a stop. The ignition switches off. The engine winds down.

A heavy silence follows.

Neither of them move. Neither of them speak. 

She hears the skittering of a flock of birds taking flight. 

Rey keeps her palm on Ben's hand, looking through the windshield when she opens her eyes.

She's staring at horizontal slats of metal, shiny charcoal framed by vertical boards colored with a rich woodstain. The image sharpens to become a shut garage door, built into the basement of a raised ranch house. A motion-sensitive floodlight illuminates the scene, glares dully on the Volvo's hood. Rey can spot part of the yard from her window, more enormous trees bordering somewhat overgrown grass. A pavers stone stairway circles up & out of view, the landing about a yard from the driver's side door. A small security camera hangs above it from a corner of the garage.

She can barely see the house from her seat. 

Can barely hear her shortened breaths. 

Ben remains absolutely still and she isn't sure if one of them is supposed to say anything.

This is where he steps out of the car, takes his bag, and she watches his figure shrink in the rearview mirror to disappear forever —

If Ben had been planning to murder her all along, here's that chance to escape. When the audience screams for the hapless victim to run. Rey even notices a deer tiptoeing in the yard that suddenly sprints away.

But the tension she feels isn't wrought from fear, from her instincts honing to something off or wrong. After experiencing countless uncomfortable encounters throughout her short life, she's confident she has some sense for this kind of thing. And Ben…

Rey doesn't even try to explain it.

She just doesn't want to leave yet.

_Like something calls for her, whispers for her to stay._

Maybe wishful thinking but…

Here's the only shot she'll ever get.

Her voice is nearly inaudible when she starts, "Can I —"

Ben snaps to look at her face, hanging onto every syllable falling from her lips. Rey pauses mid-sentence, her thigh tightening beneath his grip. Finally she remembers how to talk again:

"Can I use your bathroom?"

He blinks. "…Sure."

"T- Thanks." She flashes a smile.

He squeezes her leg lightly before moving his hand away. "Of course. Thanks for the ride."

There's another beat. "You're welcome."

Ben breaks their gaze, unlocking the door and taking the keys from the ignition. He drops them into the cupholder, nodding before he gets out without another word.

Rey isn't sure what just happened. She inhales slowly through her nose, counting to three. This will be easy. Use the restroom, ask for his number. Text him when she gets to Vermont. Call from her bed when everyone is drunk or asleep in the basement and listen to Ben's deep voice again —

She startles when the rear door unlatches, spinning around to find Ben grabbing his duffel bag. He gestures to the cupholders and Rey passes back his canteen wordlessly. She twirls the keyring on her index finger in a poor attempt to seem casual, asking,

"Is this your place?"

"Sort of." He slings the pack on his shoulder. "Grew up here."

Ben shuts the back unceremoniously. Rey pauses briefly, glances at her bag to determine whether she needs anything. Probably wise to take her pepper spray, just in case. She confirms it's in her pocket before exiting the vehicle, crosses her arms with tiny shuffling footsteps to catch up to Ben.

The house is nice. Not outrageous or ostentatious, but… really nice. Raised ranch foundation, a second story above the main floor, mostly wood paneling with modern flairs of slate masonry veneer. The styling is a little outdated, more en vogue a few decades ago, but the bones are elegant enough to seem timeless, bolstered with obviously impeccable upkeep. Large windows strategically punctuate the exterior to allow for natural lighting and less stress on the heating. Rey can see a portion of an ample wood deck in the back with a staircase, a rock garden surrounding a firepit, and a gazebo with peeling paint.

She keeps glancing down at her feet as she trails behind Ben ascending the stone stairs she saw before, leading up to the house's main entryway. The front yard is comparatively small, cut from thick woods that conceal most the road. The driveway curves just enough to mimic a winding path, tucking the house away from the rest of the world. Makes it feel far removed and secluded despite having plenty of neighbors both ways. 

"It's fine, no one's home," Ben says for no particular reason, turning back to check that she follows.

Already told her he's here alone. Rey isn't sure why Ben mentions it again. Another motion-sensitive light blinks on when they approach the red front door, nestled below a small square covered porch. There's some stupid sculpture of a windmill made of scrap metal & car parts next to the doormat that comes up to her knees. The mat greets:

_hello there_

And she spins the windmill idly while Ben hunches over fiddling with his keys. The lock clunks and Rey's heart leaps to her throat — 

He pushes the entry open. Switches on the light to illuminate a high-ceilinged foyer with hardwood floors. The walls are painted a clean creamy tan, lined with decorative mirrors facing the staircase to the second story. The railing & bars are all contemporary straight angles, the hardwood floors continuing below the geometric patterned carpet runner.

Rey purses her lips and fixes her hair in one of the mirrors, her cheeks heating from a familiar shame. Ben drops his bag at the foot of the stairs, leaves behind his shoes. He meets Rey's eyes walking into her reflection, wearing that enigmatic half-smile again. She asks,

"What?"

"That's what those are there for."

"The mirrors?"

"Yeah. Check your face one more time before making an entrance."

Rey raises her eyebrows. "You put some thought into the decor here?"

"No. My mother."

And he wanders out of frame. Rey smooths her shirt, hops around kicking her sneakers off next to Ben's. She scoots over the floors in her socks into the next room and sees what Ben meant by entrance before —

The short foyer opens up to an oversized open plan room with enormous windows that showcase the backyard. The sun's already dipped below the tree line, the woods looking dark & overgrown with tiny flashlights from a neighboring house. Shadows stretch over the shabby gazebo and overgrown grass. A couple fireflies blink by the rock garden, making the scene almost magical at gloaming. It reminds her of drinking moonshine lemonade from red plastic cups at her grandfather's Independence Day barbecue last summer. Dooku hired some guys to set off fireworks. Plenty of local families, couples, and retirees came.

It's actually a nice memory.

Ben stirs her from another reverie.

"Bathroom door's by the sofa. The one on the left."

Rey looks away, sees Ben in the kitchen built into one corner. He leans against the counter behind the island, observing her from afar. She feels small standing here in this empty area in the middle of the room, a whisp beneath towering ceilings. The floors are scuffed & scratched from years of high traffic, fold out chairs, and temporary tables. Clearly the place was used for frequent entertainment, something she's become familiar with these past couple years.

"Thanks…"

Rey loses her balance turning around, never quite getting the hang of socks on smooth floors. She flaps her arms staying upright, too embarrassed to stare at anything but her feet when she beelines for the restroom.

She does her business, surprised that the space is so clean with Ben staying there alone. It's decorated with framed vintage photos of hotrods and a cabinet topped by a vase with handcrafted metal roses. Clearly setup as a showpiece lavatory with the expectation it'll be used by temporary guests. No tub or shower. Does have a faux-weathered wooden sign that reads:

**r e l a x**

Rey lingers for a few extra moments drying her hands on some charcoal finger towels. Listens to Ben puttering around in the main room. The lighting in the bathroom is more flattering than the foyer, but can't hide the exhaustion from her eyes.

Rey nods and clicks her tongue.

_You got this. He held your hand. And thigh._

_He won't say no._

She plants her feet carefully exiting the restroom, holding the sofa's spine like a railing — one portion of an enormous L-shaped sectional corralling a coffee table covered with books, papers, magazines, a laptop. Probably Ben's things. Faces a large high-def TV on a minimalist stand. Rey spots a few more chairs by another window beside a doorway leading out to the deck. A classically styled dining room table with no seating. Entire downstairs seems exhibited for display, intended to give depth to impersonality.

She can't gauge his parents' occupations at all. They have a quasi-modern rustic taste, apparently, maybe trying to impress a "wealthy but down-to-earth" quality. Rubbed off on Ben well enough. Never would have expected this when he approached her in the parking garage asking if she's okay.

Rey inhales deeply, smells freshly brewing coffee. Ben paces by the counter and asks over his shoulder,

"Want a cup?"

"No thanks."

Doesn't want to have to pee ten seconds after getting back on the road. Rey approaches the kitchen area, Ben's leather jacket hanging off one of the stools by the island. Rey takes a seat beside it, the legs squeaking across the floor.

_Does she leave now? Does she stay longer?_

She watches Ben's back as he pours & seasons his cup, admiring his solid shoulders and arms. Formulates a quick excuse while saying it aloud:

"Can I check the traffic on TV?" She pauses. "See if anything's changed."

"Whatever you need," he replies without missing a beat. 

And he circles the island to lead her to the sofa, setting down his mug to clear some papers and locate the remotes. Rey approaches slowly, memorizing how his hair falls to partially obscure his profile. She stands to the side, points to a legal pad at the top of the pile.

"Can I —"

"Whatever you need," he repeats. "Really."

Rey takes the pad, finds a pen, perches at the very end of the cushion. Ben puts on a 24-hour local news network. A junior anchor reads the weather a little too enthusiastically for Rey's current mood. She unlocks her phone, pulling up the map again.

"I like having a backup," she over-explains, grinning sheepishly.

Ben's coffee is lightened with milk. Her side of the couch bounces a bit when he sinks into the L-corner a polite distance away. He looks… massive in his spot. Semi-relaxed, curious, his t-shirt falling over his sturdy body. She tries not to gawk too much, reenters her grandfather's address into the map's screen.

"Makes sense," Ben says. "Especially now."

"Had a phone that died all the time."

No reply. Rey closes her knees, scribbles some circles in the top corner of her page. All the available routes indicate slowdowns and closures somewhere along the way. She pulls up one set of directions, sees a detour warning on I-95 only a couple exits north —

"Traffic's on," Ben tells her.

The TV map is a maze of bold red lines like spindling veins. Pop-up graphics of collisions & delay counters are littered over every highway. The reporter wears a conservatively cut black dress that falls below her knees, wearing her best funeral garb apparently. The report articulates what Rey already sees on the phone display:

All of western Connecticut is a fucking mess. A drone flyover shot shows emergency vehicles cleaning up the wreck by the bridge that Palps called about before. Blips over to a procession of cars stopped for an overturned eighteen-wheeler on 95, the voiceover explaining that the truck was transporting flammable goods —

Her insides twist, skin itching below her clothes as realization begins sinking in…

"Check I-84," Ben suggests.

Almost forgot he was there. Almost. He's sitting up, paying close attention to the report with furrowed brows.

Her hands shake looking down at her phone. The pen rolls off the legal pad in her lap, clatters onto the wooden floors. Takes a second for her to see 84 as another interstate option on her app. Big warning for a detour there too.

"…We're seeing similar closures and delays all throughout New York and Massachusetts as people try to reach lockdown locations…"

_Fuck —_

"…Remember that essential services will be open during the mandatory quarantine, may want to hold off on those errands for another day. All state and local governments have been instructed to setup roadblocks for interviews and temperature checks…"

All the words slur together, the room starting to spin as Rey's breaths grow shallow. Her options are disappearing, the number of possibilities shrinking, the time ticking down faster in a pointless race to catch up. Whatever daydream she floated on arriving here with Ben comes crashing down all at once —

"Are you okay?" she hears him say, the couch creaking when he sits up.

Rey imagines her expression looking haunted, hollow with fear. She's not okay. Not right now. Not when she has no idea how she'll get to Vermont…

_If she can make it there at all._

"I don't… I don't think 84 will work either," she manages.

**bzz bzz bzz**

Rey gasps, dropping her phone when it vibrates in her hand.

"Shit!"

She sweeps it up from the ground, checks for cracks or errors on the screen. Her grandfather's contact card displays ominously:

📞 **Palps** 🏠

Rey flops against the cushions. "It's my grandfather, I should take this…"

"Yeah, of course."

She tosses the legal pad on the couch, comes to a stand answering the call. Her body is restless with growing anxiety, pacing over to the kitchen to hide her visible nerves from Ben.

"Rey," her grandfather croaks. "Are you on 95?"

"No, there's a huge wreck here, I'm trying to find a way around —"

"Don't bother. You're not gonna make it."

"What?"

She heard him but doesn't want to believe it. Her knees buckle and she balances on the island, bracing herself physically when Palps repeats:

"Said don't bother getting on 95. You're not gonna make it."

"W- Why?" Rey stammers. "I can — I can find backroads to get around the crash and —"

"Rey."

His tone is commanding, cold, deathly serious. One that he takes when he's demanding the full attention of the listener.

"— Can't get into Burlington, even with the license. Whole city's roadblocked. State troopers been isolating cities, cutting off Massachusetts. You won't get past Brattleboro."

"But lockdown isn't until —"

"Know you're not close to a TV, but governors are superseding the orders everywhere." He shuffles some objects on an unseen surface, grumbling, "Everyone's losing their fucking minds…"

_No no no —_

And tears fall before Rey can try to stop them, her cheeks hot all over again. She brings her palm to her forehead and exclaims,

"Where am I supposed to go?!"

He pauses. "How far are you from New York City?"

"I can't go back to Finn and Rose."

It's not an option. They didn't offer when she was visiting. She can't admit to them that they were right, how she should have left them days ago. She sniffles and Palps clears his throat, shifting to a softer note,

"Are there any shelters by you? Probably some decent ones there in Connecticut, or…"

He trails off when Rey chokes back a sob. She hears heavy footsteps approaching in her periphery, knows that Ben can tell something is wrong. Probably already figured out what it is from her side of the conversation, doing a terrible job of keeping quiet when she says,

"Locked for a week w- with total strangers? Getting rationed meals and no privacy and —"

_Like being a kid all over again._

"I don't… I don't know what else to tell you, Rey."

He's honest at least. She wipes her tears with the back of her hand, getting dust in her eyes and doing nothing to stem the flow.

"Do you even have enough supplies?" she asks.

"We'll be fine." Palps clicks his tongue. "Let's figure you out first."

A meaningless platitude given the circumstances. But he makes the effort at least. She can feel Ben watching the scene unfold, keeping his distance despite obviously listening to everything.

"What is there to figure out? I'm totally fucked."

"Heh." Palps rummages around some more. Something metallic clanks around. He opens a creaky door. "Look, you've always found a way. Chip off the old block. We don't let petty shit hold us back —"

She sighs, "This isn't petty shit —"

"— That's not the point. You're tough as hell. You've gotten through worse than this."

Her heart cinches, pricked by guilt. Maybe Palps really is trying, in his own weird way, like Finn said. Her grandfather has offered plenty of advice (usually meandering and inspired by whiskey). But this is marked by sincere concern instead of morally questionable cautionary tales & awkward humor.

"Rey… Are you there?"

"Y- Yeah." She wipes her nose, doesn't care if Ben sees. "I'm here. I'll call the hotline. I'll find something."

"Call me when you do."

"I will —"

"Call me, don't text."

"Yeah…"

Rey notices Ben leaning on the opposite side of the island, mirroring her posture with his elbows resting on the surface. Her gaze locks with his when Palps says,

"Be careful, Rey."

"I will."

"Good. Talk soon."

The call ends. Rey places the phone down, maintaining eye contact with Ben. An uncomfortable silence follows, neither one of them sure how to proceed.

_Anything you need._

Ben clears his throat. "Are you okay?"

Clearly not. "What do you think?"

"Probably seen better days."

Rey rolls her eyes and turns away, crosses her arms towards the huge window to think. She has no time to waste. Just needs to bite the bullet and call Finn —

"You don't have to go to a shelter."

Ben's nearer now. A few feet beside her, presenting his offer hesitantly. She correctly predicts what he'll say next:

"You can stay here." There's a beat. "Have an extra bed. Plenty of supplies."

But Rey hasn't planned how to respond. The prospect of spending a week alone in a nice house with a handsome stranger is more enticing than a public shelter. She considers that Ben could overpower her easily, can take whatever he wants with that same size she finds so appealing — 

Then she remembers the business card.

"If I stay here…"

Ben leans in, listening carefully. Her pulse thumps in her ears once more.

"…I'm going to send your business card to my grandfather. Just know that if you murder me or hurt me or whatever?"

He raises his eyebrows, heeding every portion of her warning:

"— He'll kill you. He's gotten guys knocked off for a lot less than messing with his only living descendant."

A part of Rey hates herself for using intimidation tactics, but she learned long ago that it's never a mistake to make her boundaries clear. No matter how nice someone may seem.

"No problem," Ben says.

She expects him to be cowed or repulsed. But he smirks and appears just as… smitten as before. Rey doesn't know how else to describe it. She likes it either way. 

"I wouldn't dream of it," he adds.

"Cut me some slack." Rey inches nearer. "Picked you up at the airport. I don't know you at all."

"We'll get to know each other." Ben taps the counter. "Or I can stay out of your way. If you prefer."

She narrows her features playfully. "We'll see."

Rey inhales deeply through her nose, wanders to the window with her hands clasped behind her back. The moon pokes above the treeline as night continues to blanket the yard. When the fireflies flicker, she doesn't have that fleeting sensation of hope and pleasant memory. The gazebo's peeling paint is more noticeable in graying light. Patches of moss look like black fuzz in the rock garden. None of this is comfortable or familiar. Another environment she'll be forced to adapt to, maybe enjoy, maybe —

"It's not so bad here," Ben remarks, coming to stand by her side. "Especially with company."

Her cheeks flush. She looks down to his hand, reaches out for it sheepishly. Ben takes it gently, skimming her palm with his thumb.

"Thanks," she mumbles.

"Of course."

They stand beside one another, taking in the moonrise. The emergency warning and lockdown timer plays quietly on the TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The super spreader party in Westport, CT is [a real thing](https://www.cnn.com/2020/03/25/us/connecticut-party-coronavirus-exposure/index.html).
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics)
> 
> Thank you 💞


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags Added: Grief/Mourning, Discussion of Drunk Driving Fatality, References to Past Alcoholism, Brief Reference of Past Physical Abuse — Re: added tags, wasn't sure which route to take with a plot point and just kind of happened. Don't intend to add anything this heavy in future updates. All this angst does end on a hopeful note.
> 
> My apologies for not replying to comments yet, thank you very very much for reading and for your feedback. Every single one made me smile and I appreciate them so so much 😭 Your response has been amazing ❤❤❤
> 
> This update got a little long 🙈 So the chapter count has been upped again to 8 — and plan to lock it there 🙂😅 Still doing OK here in southeast USA. Hope you are staying safe & feeling well.
> 
> Big thank you to [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weddersins/) for your help with this chapter.
> 
> Here we go:

The first thing Rey does is take up Ben's prior offer for coffee. She prepares hers with milk & sugar, notices Ben also makes his sweet when he pours himself a second cup to finish the half-pot. Neither of them return to the sofa, sip on their mugs in the kitchen with the TV playing quietly.

The news loads some obviously recycled clips of interviews with local volunteers sewing masks and delivering hot lunches to medical facilities. All of them six feet away from one another in a closed dressmaking warehouse, handing brown bags through holes in plexiglass barriers. The weather calls for clear skies and comfortable temperatures tomorrow. A cooldown with rain later in the week. Traffic report comes on again. Still a huge fucking mess like the one from ten minutes before.

Coffee is nice. Both of them enjoy the moment's silence, no longer stilted and uneasy.

The second thing Rey does is get her bag from the station wagon. They go down to the car when they're halfway done with their drinks. The garage door rolls open, internal chains rattling & clanging as she fetches her pack from the backseat.

"Can park it in here," Ben offers. "If you'd like."

Doesn't seem like a bad idea. She plops her bag on the stone stairs, pulls the vehicle into the bay. She spots a Jeep modified for off-roading in a second parking space. Hadn't even noticed another garage door pulling in earlier, too scattered to assess everything fully. She double-checks the seats before exiting, yawns closing the front.

Rey gasps, turning around to find Ben already there. Only a few inches away and carrying her duffel bag.

"Startle you?" he asks.

"Maybe." She drops her palm from her sternum. "Shall we?"

Ben nods and scoots around her, depressing the garage switch in his pocket and leading her through an unlocked door. The only remarkable thing about the garage is that it's unusually bare, nothing but some gardening tools aside from the cars. The Jeep — she assumes it's Ben's, but she supposes she doesn't really know — has some mud on the tires, wheel wells, risers to the seats.

When Rey sees the basement, she understands why the garage is so clean. The area is filled with boxes: stacked against the walls, on the floors, on top of unused work benches, balanced between rows of fold-out chairs. The room is musty, carries a faded odor of chemicals and wood shavings. Maybe modeling paint. Something like that. Place hasn't been used in at least a decade, maybe two, if the clutter and dust indicate anything.

Rey sneezes. The noise comes out like a squeak.

"Bless you," Ben murmurs.

"Thanks," she whispers, as if someone might overhear.

They shuffle through the dark maze, their movements obscured in shadow. The only light comes from the open door at the top of the basement stairs.

"Sorry," Ben says when Rey sneezes again.

"It's fine," she insists, trying to hurry along.

They go up and enter another room that Rey hasn't seen yet. Appears to be an office, with a mahogany desk and a huge mirror with a braided frame. Bookshelves line the wall. An antique upright globe is displayed in one corner. A leather recliner is leaned back in another. Ben crosses through quickly, switches the overhead off before Rey can read the name plaque next to a desktop.

Still hard to believe he grew up here. Though she doesn't know how many years it was. Maybe he's been gone a long time. Or maybe he never left. He'll tell her soon enough.

They return to the main room. Through that other door next to the restroom by the sofa. Ben gestures towards the foyer and says,

"I'll show you the bedroom."

And the third thing Rey does is let Ben lead her to where she'll sleep the next week. Her pack bobbles on his hip as he ascends the front stairs with the patterned carpet runner. She holds the railing, trying to avoid being clumsy. She gulps when he asks,

"What's your last name?"

"Hm?" Rey pretends she didn't hear.

"Your last name. Haven't mentioned it yet."

They reach the landing. The carpet continues some feet to terminate at a closed door that must be the master bedroom. A closed lamp sits on a skinny endtable beside the entry, too abstract to be functional. She glances to the floor. 

Well, time to get it over with already:

"Palpatine."

"Rey Palpatine," Ben hums. "Kind of a mouthful."

"Tell me about it."

No additional commentary. Doesn't seem to recognize it, thankfully. Rey bites the skin behind her lip to hold back any over-explaining, a habit picked up from a desire to keep conversations going when she was young. She can smell Ben's soap & scent again, kindling that excitement of getting to know someone new.

Ben passes another shut door to show her a wide, sturdy ladder to a loft. There's a dumbwaiter contraption beside it to hoist luggage with a simple rope machine from the top. Ben doesn't use it, keeps her pack on his shoulder as he climbs. Rey stands at the bottom of the ladder, cranes her neck with her fists on her hips. Ceiling's high like the main room's. Her bag flops onto a hard floor. Ben returns to the ladder and looks down, even bigger looming from above.

"Guest room's up here," he calls down.

"Leaving me in the hayloft, cowpoke?" she responds with a smirk, tilting her head.

"Something like that," Ben says, walking out of view.

Rey places her hands & feet carefully as she climbs to the loft, expecting the ladder to be off-balance but the thing is bolted firmly in place. _Really did think about everything,_ she muses, recalling what Ben said about his mother's purposeful decorative decisions before. Her eyes peek over the landing and she spots Ben leaning on a railing that looks out over the main room. The loft itself is clean & plain, with a skylight and a white queen-sized bedframe on the floor flanked by two tables with squat matching lamps. An antique chest of drawers rests against one wall. A loveseat is propped on another. The duffel bag sits in the middle of an area rug between the mattress & railing, where Ben remains still as she comes to his side.

Rey didn't notice this alcove in the main room earlier. But now she can gauge its location relative to where she stood by the large window. The moon pales the treetops in the backyard, the night sky still deepening to navy blue. She lays her hands on the railing, inching nearer to Ben to elbow his bicep.

"Thanks again," she tells him. "This is… not how I expected things to go at all."

"Me neither," he admits, turning to face her. "Are you sure you're okay? Staying here?"

"Yeah." Though she isn't really sure. "Don't have anywhere else to go, really."

_And this is much nicer than a public shelter. Obviously._

"Just saying," Ben adds. "No pressure. If you'd rather leave."

"Are you sure it's okay for me to stay?" She finds herself smiling, amused by the bizarre circumstances.

"Yes." He stretches the syllable a beat too long, makes an effort not to appear too eager. "I don't mind the company."

That much she understands. Has overstayed her welcome more than a few times since being on her own, even just now in New York City. Despite so many years being forced into close quarters with a revolving door of transient "siblings" as Rey burned through caretakers… she still kindles a desire to have someone who really cares — to enjoy their companionship — after being alone in so many faceless crowds…

_She doesn't mind the company either._

"Well," Rey attempts. "Let me know if you need me to leave. Or anything."

"Okay." And Ben sticks out his hand. "We'll shake on it."

"Shake on what?"

"That we're not forcing one another's company."

Huh. She glances down at his extended hand, then returns to his face — trying to find some subtext she's missing or a veiled joke or…

…Or maybe he's just being genuinely polite. Nice. Wouldn't hurt to allow for that possibility every so often too. Even if most people have a tendency to disappoint before too long. Rey hesitates another second before shaking on it, her grip weaker than she'd like:

"Works for me."

They clasp their hands, lacing their fingers together instead of letting go. Ben tugs her lightly, guiding her away from the guest room.

"Giving me the rest of the grand tour?" she quips, heading down the ladder before Ben.

"Already done, pretty much." He wipes his palms on his jeans upon reaching the bottom, accidentally bumping the dumbwaiter with a creak.

"What is that thing, anyway?" Rey asks as Ben shuffles past her. "Never seen one before."

"Luggage lift," he replies quickly. "My father made it."

Spends no time explaining further, strides past the shut door she noticed earlier. He knocks the frame and announces,

"Used to be my room. Been staying there." He points to another entry. "That's a bathroom. Another one in the master too." 

He indicates the door at the end of the carpet runner, confirming Rey's prior suspicions. She clasps her hands behind her back, self-conscious that Ben doesn't reach for hers again. He descends the stairway without additional commentary and Rey pauses at the landing, not spying any hideaways she may be missing. No siblings, she guesses.

But she does notice something else… Human figures suspended in precisely spaced photo frames. Rey treads nearer to get a better look, realizing there are more metalwork sculptures lining the floors along each wall. (A dog, a fox, and a miniature racecar are the most intriguing.) One wall by the master contains a cork board crowded with collages, school projects, ticket stubs, stickers, and other momentos. She leans in to examine a decades-old handprint-turkey colored on faded construction paper for Thanksgiving — 

_Rey remembers throwing hers away before getting on the bus afterschool, knowing her first guardian Plutt wouldn't want it anyways._

— There's even a Post-It with "love you mom" written in crayon with a childish scrawl. Rey grimaces at the sentimentality, turning away to follow Ben downstairs to the lower floor —

Her steps slow crossing the short distance, distracted by family photos displayed in individual frames & customized collages along the wall. All the identity and personality missing from the main room is confined to the second with the bedrooms. Ben sticks out from the pictures easily: his dark hair is floppy at all lengths, at younger ages short enough to expose large ears, at older ages his gangly limbs make strange angles. Took some time for him to grow into his face. In most of them he wears the same dreamy somber expression Rey's seen on his features all day. Like his mind wanders elsewhere while quietly understanding everything.

Maybe the kind of kid his mother would call _an old soul_ to those who asked, smiling broadly with her teeth like she does in the photos. Ben's father is tall with short shaggy hair and a smirking grin, features mapped with creases very similarly to Ben. Rey studies the last photo by the landing: Ben looking miserable between his beaming parents at an Earth Day clean-up event (based on the t-shirts). He's probably twelve or thirteen, young in face and too tall in body. His folks wear designer sunglasses, their son glaring daggers at the cameraman's lens. She wonders why his parents would hang this one, maybe amused by Ben's expression.

"…Long time ago now."

Rey looks up. Realizes that Ben waits for her halfway down the stairs, observing her exploration from below. She glances away, crossing her arms to return to the Earth Day memory. Family photos & portraits used to make her sad as a girl. Then as she grew older, viewing them at friends' houses & at random parties, she got a hollow and distantly jealous feeling. Now after years of experience, after growing hard and skeptical after too many unhappy endings — Rey just observes them like an idle curiosity. Tiny glimpses into worlds she'll never have or know.

Rey remembers that Ben said something before. "Looks like it."

"Surprised all that stuff's still here," he comments. "Haven't spoken to my mother in years."

And with that Ben continues down the stairs.

Her stomach drops to her knees, her suspicion piqued:

_Why's he here if he and his mother are estranged?_

Rey watches Ben descend, itch the back of his neck with a changed posture. She places her hand on the railing and he lingers at the bottom —

"You can stay up here if you want time alone. After a long day." She stays silent and he continues, "Watch TV. Use my computer. If you need anything."

Keeps repeating his offer. Maintains some chivalry, even offering to go away. Hard to gauge an appropriate response given the unusual situation. Rey tries,

"TV is okay."

He blinks. "Alright."

Ben looks down at his feet, walks ahead into the foyer. Rey chews her lip again, determining the best way to proceed. She follows after too many seconds at the top of the stairs.

_Ben must realize he belied an obvious question…_

…Maybe his version of a conversation starter. With the world already turning into a movie, easy to overlook a lot of strange things.

Rey discards her socks and tucks them into her shoes, refusing to spend her time here slipping around like a clumsy fool. Ben's taking their half-empty coffee mugs to the table at the sofa, turning back on the TV. He keeps the volume low, slumps into the same L-corner seat. Glances over to Rey as she pauses at that same window, this time standing by the chairless dining table exhibited for display.

The moon seems to hang higher from this position than the loft, almost full but not quite. Few stars shine brightly, the general area too light polluted for all of them to be seen. Further north they blanket the night sky. The yard here looks quiet at least, a single deer grazes by the tree line and some branches waver with the weight of scurrying creatures. Rey walks to the sofa, dragging her fingers along the table's surface and admiring the scene. Feels different nearly every time she sees it. Maybe why they installed the window in the first place.

Ben ducks his head down into a magazine when Rey looks up, making her final approach. Old copy of Architectural Digest that he clearly isn't reading, feigning nonchalance as he thumbs through the pages. The TV displays the newest death toll on the chyron: _50,000 dead and counting… Rate is not slowing per newest reports… Lockdown may have come far too late… Experimental treatments ongoing…_

Rey takes a seat on the couch, maintaining that same polite distance. She sips her coffee, not minding that it's gone cold, side-eyeing Ben as he pretends to read.

"How old's that issue?" she prods, covering her mouth with the cup.

Ben checks the front. "Few months."

He sets it aside with a more boyish grin than she's seen from him since they've met — knows she caught him red handed. He clicks the TV volume up a few notches then mirrors her action, drinking from his own cold coffee cup.

"…With global death tolls rising, especially with the stress of the newly-identified E-strain, researchers have been working round-the-clock to find the cure. Two of the top leading vaccine candidates have been eliminated due to extremely harmful side effects, while another two have been fast tracked to the next round of testing…"

Not the first time Rey's seen glimmers of hope for new vaccines. The newest eliminations were lauded as potential miracles only days ago. The emergency signal warning crackles, the lockdown timer and shelters hotline dutifully crawls beneath the display.

Rey puts it out of mind. Notices Ben glancing at her profile, thinking she cannot see. She wonders if there's an etiquette for short-notice quarantine with a total stranger. Or if this rises to the occasion of a bizarre first date with physical contact already established, with their mutual attraction already clear…

"So what's your deal?" Rey begins, setting her mug back down with an inelegant clunk. "Ben Solo."

"My deal?" He smirks. "Didn't think young people still said that."

She rolls her eyes. "Don't care."

"How old are you, anyway?" Ben places his cup beside hers, stays perched forward with his elbows on his knees.

"Twenty-three. And you're, what, forty-five?"

No reaction to the bad joke. "I have exactly a decade on you. Years, not wisdom, anyway."

The self-deprecating humor is charming, an unexpected departure from his serious demeanor. Rey crosses her arms, squinting at the ceiling to mime intense deliberation,

"And what does thirty-three-year-old Ben Solo do for a living?"

"Auto body shop manager. And you?"

She should have expected the question. "In between. Winter job at the ski resort ended a few weeks ago. Cafe I worked at last warm season closed a while ago for covid. Nowhere else is open either so." Rey shrugs. "Here I am."

"Here we are," Ben responds with a similar sing-songy note.

Rey quirks her brows. "You teasing me?"

"Wouldn't dream of it. Not like that at least."

_The implication was intentional. It had to be —_

"Wouldn't be a show of good hospitality," she recovers with an awkward wink.

Ben sits back again, hands behind his head with his elbows fanned by his ears. Purposefully directs his eyes at the TV, avoiding seeing her reaction. Rey never enjoyed the "get to know you" games at countless therapy circles & skills meetings, being corralled into centers with other aimless unclaimed children to pass time more than anything.

She finds herself talking to fill the silence already, "You and the body shop live around here?"

"Boston."

"Oh, no shit, I'm from Lowell. Mostly. Majority of my time there."

"You liked it there?"

Rey can't restrain her grimace. "Place itself is fine. Normal. I guess."

She has little measure for normalcy, even pre-covid. Every mental image of the town is inexorably tied to shitty memories. They overshadowed the pleasant ones enough to send her running from the entire fucking state of Massachusetts when Palps' near-miraculous offer came her way.

"You liked it here?" Rey counters, sweeping a hand to indicate the enormous room.

Ben tenses his jaw, considering his reply carefully. The unconscious reaction makes her even more curious.

"It was okay. I was born lucky." There's a beat. "By most measures."

She takes the bait. "Oh?"

Ben checks over his shoulder like he expects to see someone in the empty kitchen. He turns back and elaborates,

"Things aren't always as they seem. Not as nice when you look underneath."

A cliche that Rey understands too well. The news begins playing the president's daily briefing and Ben changes the channel without her needing to ask. He leaves it on a cooking show hosted by a soft-spoken woman assembling an impressive cake display. A part of Rey wants to explore the larger story hinted in Ben's dramatic choice of words before —

But that'd put her in a position where she'd have to share too. And she isn't sure how much she wants to say quite yet.

"So when did you leave here?" she tries instead.

"Moved to the Bronx when I was eighteen. Been in the Boston area past eight years or so."

Ben opens his arms, slouching into the sofa to stare at the high ceilings like Rey did before. He lolls his head to face her and ask,

"How about you?"

"What about me?" Even though she knows what he means.

"When did you leave home?"

This is where she could say she didn't have one to leave, but sidesteps it instead. "Moved to my grandfather's outside Burlington two-and-a-half years ago. Almost three."

"In the city?"

"Not far, but more rural."

"You like the mountains?"

Rey presses her lips to a line, mulls over her mixed feelings. Staying in the cabin has been confusing and at times stressful, especially with her and Dooku butting heads frequently. (She suspects he's a bit more than a right hand man to Palps, but still no hard evidence or suspicious conversation cues after looking for years.) Her grandfather expects Rey to act as though the two of them have a familial bond, hobbles through the motions like that nonsense about calling him "Pops" instead.

_My granddaughter!_ he'll exclaim when she comes down the basement stairs with fresh handles of whiskey. _So kind, to help this old man…_ Puts on a show for poker buddies who know better, never hearing about her until she appeared on Palps' doorstep one day. After he was out of prison for a year already. Rey gathered long ago that no family is perfect, that even the most outwardly cheerful are frequently hiding unspoken conflicts & pain.

But she's certain that whatever they Palpatines have been carrying on is an even further departure from all that. And Ben didn't ask her grandfather. He asked about the mountains —

She imagines the view from the cabin's back porch, mostly filled with endless copses of thickly-grown trees. One portion of the nearby lake is visible from a certain corner where Palps set up a chaise lounge. A single neighbor has a rickety dock. The small body of water is framed by rolling mountains that are lush green on summer's days. The air is crisp & clean, the solitude is peaceful, there's a sense of being closer to nature that she loves as well. A welcome change from suburban sprawl.

"You like it?" Ben repeats.

"Yeah. I guess I do," she admits. "You like Beantown?"

"It works."

Not very enthusiastic. Another short silence passes as the baker on TV lauds the importance of simple sugar syrups for maintaining moisture in cakes. The dynamic between Rey and Ben seems… different since leaving the car. More tentative and reserved and marred by the actuality of who they are and what they're doing. The reality dampens that fleeting excitement they felt before —

But the physical attraction is there. The tension building for hours winds tighter with every stolen glance at the other's body, every accidental moment of eye contact before looking away. Sitting in this big silent house makes them feel cloistered, hidden away and suspended in this little world together…

_And whatever happens isn't for anyone outside to know or see —_

Rey's phone buzzes on the table from some app notification, reminding her of a promise very recently made. Or at least the odd sense of obligation that remains.

"One sec…"

Rey finds another one of Ben's business cards poking out from the mess of notebooks. She texts photos of both sides to Palps' cell, before calling on the land line per his request. No answer. She sighs hearing the drone of the answering machine, leaving her message:

"Hi Palps. Staying with my friend Ben who lives around here. Texted you his contacts." Rey doesn't know what else to say, awkwardly adding, "I'll call you in the morning around lockdown." There's a beat. "Okay, bye."

Rey clicks her tongue. Swipes over to her speeddials. Probably should call Dooku too before having to tolerate a lecture again:

"Hello, Rey," he greets, callous as usual. "Last I heard your grandfather was waiting for you to call when you found —"

"Yeah, I just did," Rey huffs. "Left a message. Texted him my friend's number too."

"And where is this friend located?" She hears Dooku rustling some papers, probably looking for a pen.

"Connecticut." Takes a few seconds to remember. "Westport, Connecticut."

Dooku jots it down. "Anything else?"

"Well." Another pause. "Tell Palps I'll call him tomorrow morning around lockdown. On the land line."

"Your grandfather, you mean."

Rey rolls her eyes. "Tell him to listen to the machine, okay?"

"Yes," Dooku concludes. "And try to stay alive for his sake, will you?"

**click**

No farewell, additional instructions, or anything. Better that way, frankly. Rey finds herself explaining even though Ben didn't ask,

"That was my grandfather's assistant. Friend. Guy. Whatever. Always around. Calls me with messages from Palps as often as Palps actually does himself —"

"Palps?" Ben asks.

"My grandfather." Rey points to herself. "Palpatine. Get it?"

"Ah." He nods. "Call a hit on me yet?"

She chuckles, laughing genuinely for the first time in awhile. "Not yet. But being locked down hasn't stopped him before."

"Your parents… do whatever he does too?" Ben asks. Conversationally. Innocently. Trying to be humorous about the implied organized crime.

Her smile fades. Best to get the pity party over with sooner rather than later. It's bound to come up eventually over this week:

"No. They died when I was a little kid."

Usually this is where too many people want details. Not Ben. He doesn't ask how. Or how old. Or where she was in Lowell all those years before Vermont. A similar sadness darkens Ben's features and right before he elaborates, the pieces fall into place —

"My parents are dead too."

Rey raises her eyebrows. Immediately checks around the room, like their ghosts will pop out from behind a corner. Her spine bolts straight, an uneasy churning starting in her stomach…

_Ben said he hasn't spoken to his mother in years. Now says both his parents are dead._

"Did you inherit this place?" Rey asks, quieter than intended, a lump swelling in her throat.

_Someone's maintained the place recently. It's clean. Utilities paid. Mostly well-kept —_

"Maybe." He pauses. "I'll know soon enough, I guess."

Then she remembers how Ben phrased it earlier, passing by one of the closed doors upstairs,

_"Used to be my room. Been staying there."_

— It happened recently.

Ben must notice her face changing with her rushing thoughts, shifting in his seat. They're sitting more than an arm's length apart, but far closer than she realized, imperceptibly drawing nearer as they speak. A sound effect plays when the baker finishes her crumb coat on TV. Rey still holds his gaze, evaluating his subtly expressive mein —

"So here we are," Ben repeats. Uses the same sing-song tone.

Despite her intuition heeding her to be wary of something she's missing (for the first time since arriving here), her heart cinches with a beat of sympathy. Rey senses a familiar loneliness that she can understand, despite the differences in their upbringings. Ben turns away, stares in the general direction of the TV. She moves a few inches closer, resting her hand within Ben's reach.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"It's okay," he murmurs, keeping still. "More weird than anything. Being here."

It's quiet again. The cake is iced, the baker rolls fondant for decorations. Rey exhales slowly from her nose. Remembers waking up somehow already knowing when she was seven, felt the specter of uncertain knowledge trailing her the whole day. Until she got home from school, saw the social worker flipping through a packet of papers with Plutt at the cramped kitchen table. One of the lights flickered as she walked beneath it in the hall. They looked up when she stood in the kitchen doorway —

Her eyes sting but Rey doesn't cry. Manages to steel herself from falling headfirst into the full pain of the memory. An updated death toll plays on the ticker beneath the fondant flowers being pinched into petals for display.

A weight presses on her hand.

She looks down. Ben leans just a touch closer to cover it with his. Brushing the skin with his thumb, the quirk becoming increasingly endearing.

"Thank you," he tells her.

"Of course. I'm… here."

"Not that you planned to be."

Her breath hitches. "Well. Still."

An ambulance siren wails somewhere outside, pitch warbling up & down with one long note. A police car follows, the slightly different sound creating a discordant melody. The noise dims as the vehicles speed further away, striking a low tone beneath the cheery stock music playing on TV. Ben strengthens his grip on her hand. The pressure isn't forceful, suggestive, or leading — instead finding a moment's comfort that he wants to hold for as long as he can — 

"Been here less than a month," Ben says. "Thought more would have changed."

Directed to the empty room more than her. Hard to tell if he wants to talk more or abandon the topic entirely. The sirens fade to disappear, leaving behind another deep silence that strains with the gravity of his words. Another TV sound effect dings. Rey tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"At least now you have some company," she offers, forcing a grin.

"Good company," Ben corrects.

Her cheeks flush and her voice wavers again, body still instinctively responding to his proximity,

"H- How long has it been? Before a month ago."

_Fuck, wrong thing to say —_

Ben furrows his brows. The pause is long, eerily twisting the mood.

"…Eleven years."

Oh wow.

"That's a long time," she says lamely.

"Yeah."

Ben removes his hand, peering down at Rey's laying still on the cushion. She taps her fingers nervously. He says,

"You should probably know the story. If you plan to stay here."

That doesn't sound good. Rey swallows hard. "It's okay, you don't have to —"

"You should." He looks up, focusing intently on her face. "In case you want to leave."

Her eyes widen, nerves cringing to attention. "In case I want to —"

"In case you think too differently of me."

Those enormous hands wring in his lap, anxious with carried guilt. Rey struggles to map how their conversation even got here, how they slid from flirtation to confession. The lockdown timer & shelters hotline announcement plays again in the background, hardly registering after continuous exposure. This day was so bizarre already that Rey doesn't question the emotional stakes in testing the boundaries of their comfort & budding trust.

And she's making excuses already. Appreciating his being mindful of her comfort before he even says anything. But her churning stomach flips, fearful that she judged his character incorrectly —

"Can't promise I won't," she murmurs.

"I understand." Ben glances at her hand again, but leaves it be. "I just…"

He buys another few seconds to reangle his legs, demonstrating that he fixes his concentration on her completely. Prepared to observe her reactions when he explains:

"Never listen to my voicemails. Cleaning them up and find one a week-old from my mother, telling me she's got that new virus on the news. She was one of the early cases. Travel related. Came down here right away, find out from her office she died two days before. Last she ever heard from me was when I hung up on her eight years ago…"

Rey taps her fingers once more, a signal to let Ben know her hand is there if he needs it, parts her lips to express her condolences —

"…It was a few weeks after I got out of prison. Told her it'd be best for both of us if we never speak again. Can't come back from the way things were. Guess we never did."

— There it is.

Rey closes her mouth promptly. Ben pauses here, searching her eyes before continuing. Whatever it is, he feels bad enough that he's scared it'll send her packing. Despite her threatening him with Palps' criminal ties and —

"I'm sorry," she hears herself whisper again.

"Don't be. Sorry for me."

His feet turn inward, he blows some hair from his face. Looking more like an oversized fearful child than the guardian that embraced her outside the gas station only so long ago.

Rey doesn't move her hand away. Knows what he wants her to ask next,

"…Why shouldn't I be?"

Another beat. "Because I killed my own father."

Her eyes go wide. Neither of them look away.

"What?" Rey asks.

_She must have misheard him, must have —_

He emphasizes every syllable when he repeats,

"I killed my own father."

Rey loses the ability to speak. "You —"

"— When I was twenty-two. Came here for a weekend from the city, mother forced me into it for some gala she was hosting. Wanted us to play happy family for a magazine feature of the event."

Ben bites his lip. Rey stays absolutely still, pulse pounding in her ears as she listens to the rest:

"Which was all bullshit, of course, with my father out gambling and drinking every opportunity he had. But I came and it went as well as you can expect, my mother kicked us out when we were shouting on the deck."

She blinks. "About… About what?"

Ben shrugs. "It's a long story. My uncle lived with us a few years, 'kept an eye' when my folks were gone, spent most of it drinking and beating the shit out of me if I walked the wrong way while he was 'meditating' in the loft." Ben waves a hand, clearly not wanting to dwell on this portion. "My grandfather was the same way too, choked out my grandmother before running off, car found in a ditch a few years later with a blood alcohol level to take out a horse."

Another pause.

"That's not what you asked," Ben murmurs, turning away to the TV. "We were arguing because my uncle was at the party. Hadn't seen him since my father kicked him out on his ass when I was fifteen."

Rey has no idea what to say. "That must have been uncomfortable."

Ben looks back, perhaps expecting her to run away already. "Doesn't matter now. Has little to do with the rest."

"The rest," she repeats.

"Yeah, the rest."

Ben peeks down at her hand, still poised in between them, resting on the cushion. His throat moves when he swallows, quietly shocked that she hasn't taken it away yet. A part of her doesn't know why she hasn't either —

Another part of her does: the heavy remorse evident in Ben's expression & posture… his restlessness as he articulates it all aloud… this opaque desire just to have someone listen to it all without dismissing him immediately…

_He's really going through it right now._

"We went to a bar," Ben continues, snickering at this point. "Of course. Where else would we go. We were tipsy when we got there. Drunk when we left. Some of it was nice. Most of it fucking terrible as usual."

He inhales deeply through his nose, any hint of joy draining from his face:

"Argued about driving or taking a cab. I insisted I was fine, he didn't put up a fight anyway, we get in the car, yelling at each other, some point veered into the wrong lane…"

His eyes glass over and he closes them for some seconds — an attempted restraint that Rey recognizes all too well — 

"…And that was that. Made all the local papers here, with my mother's charity work and my father a known local character with a chain of high-value exotic auto repair shops. Rather I tell you then have you find out by googling me."

Ben continues without missing a beat, not wanting to endure her reaction yet,

"Vehicular manslaughter. Sentenced to four years, got out in three. That was the last time I was in this house."

Rey thinks of the cork board by the master bedroom upstairs.

"Ben —"

"I just… I can't believe barely anything's changed. She still has everything hanging up. Even my dumb cards. After all these years." He doesn't cry, but wipes his nose with the collar of his shirt. "Haven't drank since. Eleven years. Never got to tell her that. Or anything else, or —"

"Ben."

Their gazes meet again, hesitant and nervous and his marked by fear:

_That she'll leave him alone with this empty house and its years of memories._

"It's… It's okay."

A prescription drug ad lists side effects on TV over a stock video of parents blowing up a kiddie pool and filling it with a garden hose. Rey finds a remote and clicks down the volume, places her hand between them where it was before. She taps her fingers, bringing her voice low,

"I'm sure your mother knows. Somewhere. Maybe."

Rey doesn't believe that entirely, but it sounds like something Ben might want to hear.

"She loved you." Rey glances up at the loft's alcove briefly. "She obviously missed you."

More than Rey can say about her own family. Albeit Ben's sounds pretty messed up too, in an entirely different way.

"Yeah. I guess she did," he says.

Rey scoots nearer on the couch, listens to the steadying rhythm of his breaths. His massive body seems weakened, sinking into the cushions like he wishes he could disappear. The emotional reversal is startling, after he's comforted her throughout their journey how many times already today. Ben tells the story totally unlike Palps' tales of revenge or his buddies' bragging of past territorial victories —

Ben **regrets** it. Heavily. Obviously. With every fucking fiber of his being. He stares in his lap, palms resting up like he imagines them gripping a steering wheel even now.

Rey places her hand on his massive thigh. Gives it a little squeeze like he did to hers before. He flinches beneath her touch, head snapping up as she says,

"…I'm not going to leave."

And Ben observes her with both admiration and utter disbelief. Completely frozen in place. Rey slides her hand further to grasp one of his and reminds him,

"You're not alone."

Ben stares down at his lap, his free hand trembling slightly as he strokes the soft skin below her wrist. Tightens his grip just a bit more…

"Thank you," he whispers.

And Rey leans in, her heart pounding as she traces her lips against his light stubble down to his cheek.

"I mean it," she murmurs next to his ear.

He turns slowly, nearer and nearer and —

"Neither are you…"

Rey presses her lips to his, her hands flying up to hold his cheeks and bring him close. Despite the magnitude of Ben's confession, it feels like a step built towards trust. He insisted on telling her, on making sure she was okay with his past before anything went further…

It's odd, perhaps, to find the implicit care and trust emotionally liberating. Ben kisses her back hesitantly, wraps his arms around her like he isn't sure if this is real. She crawls into his lap, tugged gently by his embrace. Splits his mouth with her tongue to drown in his taste. He pinches her neck, deepens their kiss — kneads his hands down her arms and back as their connection grows with a new intensity —

Rey thinks of those phrases they keep repeating:

_You're not alone._

_Neither are you._

And she really feels them, her own hands roving over his biceps before she lays her palms on his broad chest. Both of them are moving everywhere, her body heated at every place they touch. She straddles his lap, their kiss intensifying with a shared desire and increasing need to be nearer to one another like — 

The emergency warning buzzes again, cutting through their sloppy sounds and shortened breaths. Ben pulls back, eyelids low as he marvels at her like she fell out of a dream.

"Rey…"

He smooths her hair, blows an eyelash from her cheeks. Circles his arms around her waist with a lopsided smile, dumbstruck by his luck and the mere fact that she just sat there listening.

_Just as fucked up as me,_ Rey considers.

He won't be scared by her checkered past.

It brings her some relief.

"Yes?" she asks.

"I gotta…" He points to the bathroom.

She hops off his lap, flopping into her corner of the sofa again. He straightens the hem of his shirt coming to a stand, bends down briefly to kiss her cheek as he passes.

"You're something else," he tells her.

"Oh?"

"I mean that in a good way."

And he scurries away into the restroom. Rey watches the tail end of an ad for the next show set to play. Glances to the closed doorway a couple times before watching the moonrise out the window. And despite being trapped with someone she met only hours ago, she isn't sure she's ever felt this close to someone so quickly… 

Well, maybe this isn't how people usually meet.

Maybe this isn't how people usually share their first kiss.

But the world's tilted off its axis. 

And Rey figures nothing's ever been usual for her anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a goofy blog article I found on how to make a [hand turkey for Thanksgiving](https://www.goodhousekeeping.com/holidays/thanksgiving-ideas/g29194874/how-to-make-hand-turkey/). A ubiquitous little kids holiday craft in the USA 🙂
> 
> Thank you again for reading. Stay safe 💕
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your amazing feedback and support. Sorry I have not replied to every comment yet, will be soon. Every single one made me smile and adds 10 years to my life, thank you 😭 Excited for the home stretch and hope you enjoy 💝
> 
> Apologies for the longer time between updates. Real life, lockdown malaise, various other things along the way. But this chapter is literally twice as long as the previous ones to make up for it? 😅
> 
> Big thank you to [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weddersins/) for being an amazing beta and friend 💞
> 
> Tags Added: Size Difference, Size Kink, Dirty Talk
> 
> Here we go 😏😉

Ben's posture is more relaxed when he returns to the sofa. He slumps into the seat, the fabric both well-kept and well-worn. A tiny grin curls his lips in profile, a quiet satisfaction he can't hide from his face. Rey's heart flutters too, beating with a rush of excitement as she works to conceal a small smile of her own. Probably failing as much as Ben, both wound higher from the shifted dynamic between them. She tilts her head, burrows in her opposite corner with her feet on the cushions. Ben finds the remote and turns to another channel.

A young couple bicker in an empty house in a generic city, debating cost versus aesthetics versus distance from work. The realtor suggests they go tour House Number Three. A woman with a high ponytail and tailored khakis says,

"Think of all the entertaining space we'd have with this square footage!"

Ben turns to a news channel with a crowded screen of talking heads on personal computer cameras of varying quality. They barely speak for fifteen seconds before he switches off the screen entirely.

"Do you mind?" Ben asks.

"No," she replies. "Not at all."

He turns to her, studying her face before saying,

"You look cold."

Rey quirks her brow, the phrase hitting differently than it did in the car. When she held his hand as he drove, _making a good mitten_. Doesn't feel as innocent as it did then, even if the moment felt more intimate than it should have with a near stranger.

Now they've crossed a boundary they can't rebuild or take back.

Not after a kiss like that.

"Maybe," Rey lies, even though she's not cold at all.

Ben rests his hand beside his leg as a silent invitation. His fingers tense, creasing the fabric to match the tired lines beneath his eyes. Like she saw under her own in the too-bright bathroom after an exhausting journey. Rey wonders if Ben examined his reflection with similar scrutiny. If he washed his face to cool his nerves or to wipe away tears.

"If you need anything," he reminds her.

Rey smirks, his offer sounding more suggestive than intended by his light tone. She crawls upright on her knees, couch springs creaking from her awkward shuffling. Her half-up hair falls into her eyes, sticking to the light sheen of sweat on her neck & forehead from a long day. Ben watches her scoot around, flop next to his seat. Her cheeks flush imagining how goofy her inelegant movements must seem.

"Maybe I do need something," she attempts, starting to rest on Ben.

Rey wiggles her hips to get comfortable and Ben takes the hint, raising his arm to let her lay her head on his broad chest. She swallows hard feeling his hand on her thigh, higher from the position. She peers up into his face from below as she covers his hand with her palm.

"Thanks." Rey winks.

"You're cute," he replies with a dreamy droll.

_Like he doesn't realize he's saying it aloud._

"You too." She smiles, showing her teeth with greater confidence than before. "And warm. You make a good sweater."

She concentrates on steadying her breaths to match his rhythm, her slim figure rising & falling with Ben's chest. Somehow he feels… unburdened. At least briefly. The casual air of their conversation helps lift the weight of what transpired minutes ago. But the gravity of his presence in this house isn't lost on Rey. She can't imagine how he was here for that almost month alone —

_She could kiss him again right now._

No. She should wait.

_What does it matter with the world going to shit anyway?_

Things are moving so fast already. For reasons beyond her control, but also within. And her conscience bids her to reassess, just a second — despite her other instincts insisting on pushing forward…

_…They'll be together at least a week. It won't be long before it happens again._

Ben appears to notice her restlessness, shifts his hand to lace her fingers through his. He suggests hesitantly,

"If you're going to stay. Might want to see what's here."

"Y- Yeah," she agrees, inwardly glad she didn't have to break the moment herself.

Rey sits up and Ben kisses her temple, feathers his lips through her hair as she pulls away. Despite all the rest, her body reacts to his touch, her thighs tensing and breath catching in her throat. She swings her feet to the floor. And from the way Ben glances over, she's certain he senses her keyed nerves too…

Ben leads them to the kitchen, bids her to rummage through as she wishes. Rey takes him up on it, finding a cupboard well-stocked with mostly non-perishable food. The shelves inside are taller than her, some space leftover if they wanted to add anything. Even an extra pack of paper towels on the floor.

"Always prepared," she comments loudly.

"Lot of it was there when I got here," he responds, voice distant like he's somewhere low to the floor.

Rey shuts the door, sees Ben crouched down rifling through his duffel bag. She spots him place something in his pocket from the corner of her eye — ignores it and starts opening cabinet doors.

"Plates, more plates, bowls, colander…"

Rey narrates her findings, hears Ben shuffle around the island to lean by the sizable farmhouse sink. She encounters flatware in multiple drawers. They clatter when she slides them closed with her hip. There's even a stand-up mixer and hand-press juicer on the counter, but the gadgets are too polished — likely for display instead of use.

"There's a washer 'n dryer in the basement," Ben remarks, pushing off to head into the foyer. "And a path through the boxes to find them."

Some seconds pass before Rey follows, distracted by a gray subway tile backsplash behind the gas stove. She catches up, raising her voice to act like she joined sooner,

"What are those boxes anyway?"

Ben stands by the front entryway, narrowing his glare at an object Rey can't see. He half-answers, trying to fold his enormous fingers into the latch of a pocket door:

"My father's things." There's a metallic squeak. "Junk from storage units, his shops, that kind of thing." The door opens and gets stuck, off-center along its track. "Extra coats. Don't know how much you brought to the City."

Rey turns from checking her hair in one of the mirrors. "Not too bad tonight."

The temperature, she means. Ben shrugs, not entirely understanding. She clears her throat and suggests,

"You should show me the backyard. Saw a bunch of stuff from the window."

Ben glances up the stairway like someone might catch them sneaking outside. Maybe a habit from a long time ago. He meets her eyes and answers,

"Sure."

Ben points behind her to indicate the main room, walking into the kitchen to retrieve his coat. Rey crosses her arms, approaches the front closet. She doesn't want to go all the way up to the loft, not thinking anything of it when she left her hoodie there. The pocket door hangs crooked and half-open. First thing Rey spots is a flight jacket-styled leather coat. The waist's trimmed to cinch slightly, the collar a touch wide with fine stitching down the sleeves.

_Is it appropriate to wear a dead woman's coat?_

Rey presses her lips to a line, shrugging the item off its wooden hanger. Smells too much like cedar to have been worn recently. The brown leather has deep lines from prior use, some lighter spots from age. The zipper's not shiny at all. No risk of contagion from the past two weeks, thing's been stuffed away much longer than that. Her chest tightens hearing Ben's footsteps echo as he returns to the foyer…

Rey hikes the coat on and remarks innocently,

"Figured we'd match."

She tugs the bottom hem and smiles, nodding at Ben's black leather jacket. He makes no note of recognition, merely saying,

"It suits you." A pause. "Suspect anything does though."

_A silly compliment. But it's nice to hear nonetheless._

"Thanks, cowpoke," Rey says to Ben's back as he treads to the red front door.

He rests her hand on her shoulder as he passes and comments, "Should really fix that closet."

"Got a whole week to figure it out."

"Yeah." Ben fiddles with the front door. The lock unlatches with a resonating clunk. "Suppose we do."

She stays behind a few seconds as Ben crosses the threshold. Wets her lips and inhales deeply through her nose, unconsciously preparing herself for whatever may come next. The motion-sensitive light blinks on, catches Ben's shadow through the doorframe. Rey shuffles behind him more timidly than she'd like, slowly closing the front door. She spins the metal windmill she noticed by the doormat earlier.

Rey considers asking Ben about the sculptures now. But she decides it's probably better not to risk excavating an emotional memory, given the magnitude of their prior conversation.

_Don't really know him at all,_ she reminds herself. _But that's what she'd want at least._

Ben's size is less intimidating descending the stone stairs that wind down the front yard to the garage. He's a little shortened by the perspective, embossed by the garage's floodlight at the landing. The empty pavement seems odd, a big black square where the Volvo was before. It's cooler outside than Rey expected. She shivers from a chill passing through the old jacket and her fraying jeans.

"You alright there?" Ben calls, checking over his shoulder. He waits by the backtop's edge, the borders obscured by overgrown grass.

"I see you," she returns.

"Not much to see back here," he warns her. "Hasn't been kept up."

Ben trudges ahead into the yard, making temporary footprints in the long blades of grass. Some patches are dry, pointy enough to poke Rey's ankles. Not in a pleasant way, the kind of scratchiness that reminds her of baseball outfields & prickly heat at the community center summer camp. Other kids teased her for having holes in her shoes and the same five shirts every week.

"Know I should mow this too," Ben remarks, gesturing towards the yard generally.

Rey falls in stride with Ben, arms still crossed as she concentrates on her footing to avoid obstacles. They're greeted by a mossy birdbath turning the corner, at the bottom of the wooden deck and hidden from the large window's view. Ben passes without any comment, locating a pathway of artificially-aged rectangular stones. Rey drags her fingers over the birdbath's stippled surface, surprised to find it's cheap concrete instead of finer stone. The deck is stilted above the yard with stairs to reach the seating area & entrance to the main room. Can tell it needs to be pressure-washed even under moonlight, but it's built well. Looks sturdy.

The sculptures in the rock garden she spotted earlier are pretty much the same. The hard angles of their geometric forms are weathered by years of rain & snow, with stable foundations poured into the ground. They form a jagged outline around a circle of bricks surrounding a fancy firepit that looks picked from a catalogue. The screened lid is off-kilter. The fake log seating is similarly faded, one portion of it overturned from a storm. Rey hears Ben milling around, turns when he says.

"— This one was my favorite."

Ben stands beside a statue prominently featuring a double helix down a middle bow. Rey can barely discern any details beyond that. The object looks like a vertical patch of grass being slowly consumed from below.

"Called it the DNA Rock when I was a kid." He smirks, pats the surface before dropping his hand. "Thought I was a genius back then."

Rey smiles. "Use the firepit a lot?"

"Not really," he admits. "Handful of parties in high school when the place was empty."

And Ben wanders away into a portion of the yard bathed in shadow. Rey lingers another second. Imagines taking a swig of liquor as she sits here by a campfire, the laughter of faceless friends drowned by a symphony of crickets. A young Ben is there next to a guy with a beanie hunched over an acoustic guitar. Ben shoves his shoulder and cackles,

_Not that fucking song again!_

"— You coming?"

Rey startles back to reality, her voice high-pitched. "Yeah, right behind you."

She can't help feeling she's known Ben for years, their instant connection seeming much deeper than a one-time accidental quarantine… thing. Whether it's the heightened stakes & emotions of global circumstances — or just the desperation of two people lost alone in their memories — 

_Whatever they have is more real than that._

Her heart beats faster following him further away from the house. Ben's silhouette pauses up ahead, waiting for her to join.

"What do you think?" he asks. "Now that you're taking a closer look."

Rey assumes he means the backyard. Her vision adjusts to the darkness beneath the trees. The house's windows are lit up like beacons under the night sky, emphasizing the stark contrast between its meticulous decoration and the unattended outdoors. The overgrowth is only some weeks old, suggesting that Ben's mother had the lawn mowed. Beyond that, she left its structures to crumble & decay, maybe from apathy — 

Or pain, if the back was his father's "domain." Would be strange to look out at this everyday if that were the case. Suppose that's how Ben feels being here.

"It's nice," Rey answers honestly. 

And it is. The almost-full moon dimly illuminates the scene, making the yard otherworldly with the house watching them like a sentry. Ben leads them to the gazebo, acting as her guide through this strange dreamy place. A grotto tucked away from the gloom of fear & death veiled over the entire fucking planet these days. She recalls the fireflies she spotted earlier, the only feature missing from the display.

"I like it," she adds. "Thank you for the tour."

Very different from the handmade features scattered in the woods behind Palps's cabin up north — cluttered with projects from the old hippies who owned the place before him, a kind of sculpture garden of its own. And the places she lived in as a kid had tall fences lining the perimeters of rigid suburban borders. Ben's deep voice stirs her from the errant musing —

"Glad you like it. Hope you like being here."

Their exchanges are comfortable, none of it forced. And that in itself piques Rey's concern, that she's giving him the keys to her heart too quickly…

_Before they've had a chance to sleep._

But even now, saying he hopes she'll enjoy her stay, impacts Rey in a way she can't quite explain. He comes off as mindful of her presence. And not bad or leering, instead a natural continuation of the trust they've been building as they both seek a friend for the end of the world — 

…She's getting carried away. Again. The emotion pours over to words before she can stop:

"Thank you."

Ben doesn't understand. Stops at the gazebo and turns back. "For what?"

Rey bites her tongue, nudges his arm as she steps into the structure. The building is simple with a skinny railing. Doesn't see any chairs, kind of odd given how far back they are from the house. The floorboards creak as Rey walks the small perimeter, the materials yawning from age. She peels a large strip of paint off one of the beams. Smushes it into a pulp with her fingers before discarding it to the ground. Smells like a dirt-caked rainy afternoon despite all the dry grass around.

"Thanks for what?"

Ben asks again, softer but more confident. Tempered by a hint of knowing that swells a lump in Rey's throat. The cover of night hides the color flushing her cheeks again. She leans against one of the supports to face Ben, arms behind her back to mimic a dainty posture.

"For everything," she whispers.

"You don't have to thank me," Ben tells her. Another board squeaks under his weight. "I should be the one thanking you."

A breeze withers through the trees, creating another melody of cracking branches & skittering leaves. Rey shivers against the crisp burst of air in the gazebo, the structure providing meager shelter from the elements. A part of her wonders how they're standing in the thing — even as Ben approaches, his size somehow more imposing in the tighter space —

"For what…?" she returns, taking the bait.

Her thighs feel closer together, her skin too near to her clothes. She cranes her neck to hold his stare when he towers next to her. And a warmth blooms to seep lower between her legs, his gaze spurring an instinctive drive that's heightened by his proximity. Like they're adventurers in an uncanny landscape. Like he's an enormous creature luring her towards him — 

_Fuck, he's really hot._

"Thank you for being stuck here with me," Ben responds.

His scent makes her flinch. He's already moving, already closing that quickly-shrinking "polite distance" to rest his palm on her shoulder. To smooth her hair and lightly cup her tilted chin.

She blinks and glances away.

"I kind of like it," Rey admits. "Being stuck with you."

Her eyelids close. His thumb brushes her cheekbone. Rey senses him lean inward, his exhale heating the curve of her neck. She clenches up. Her insides twist. He keeps her head steady and murmurs next to her lips,

"I like it too."

— This kiss is different. Rey notices immediately, their movements struck by an urgency that they hadn't heeded earlier. Ben's turn to hold her cheeks, to grip her nearer and cover her mouth with his. She unravels clasping his arms and sighing into his lips — 

Her eyes open when he pulls away, still cradling her face and studying her features intently.

"Ben…"

He silences her with another kiss, dropping his hands to rub her neck & shoulderblades beneath the unzipped jacket's collar. Lets Rey press her body against his, chasing the sense of being small and sheltered in his embrace. Her spine aches when she backs against the railing. Her legs shudder imagining him parting them and sliding upward —

Rey bites his lip, digs her nails into his leather coat to outline the shape of his biceps and forearms. Strong enough to hold her down while he bounces her slim figure underneath him. And she lets herself fall into this exhilarating feeling of endless anticipation, into just enjoying being overwhelmed.

"Fuck —"

Ben curses when Rey grinds against his hips and she finds it more endearing than vulgar. A hard spot pokes her jeans, she repositions to bump the tip of his cock against her thigh. She smiles into his mouth, skims her palms over his chest. Another wind brings their surroundings to life, the trees' sounds swarming her ears and flooding her heart —

_Holy shit._

— Until it fades into a long blowing horn, pitch warbling up and down with a familiar tone.

Her stomach drops in time with her recognition, gasping as she disconnects from Ben. He pales even in the dark gazebo, clutching her limbs to keep her upright despite the same fear visible in his eyes.

**An air raid siren.**

Both of them freeze. Snap their heads towards the house, as if the place might tell them whether to go or stay. The noise pauses, the quiet space filled by a droning static — 

"W- What's that?" Rey manages.

Ben tightens his grasp. "I don't know."

The siren's whine returns, louder and nearer and striking a minor chord. The pitch lowers and the static comes back, garbled like a megaphone or intercom. Rey struggles to interpret the indistinct words.

Ben doesn't waste any more time, separating from Rey and yanking her hand to flee. He pulls her easily, using his strength to drag her towards the house. The third time the siren cycles, the sound pierces her instincts with a visceral fear — near enough to deafen her panting breaths —

"Basement," Ben shouts above the noise.

He jerks her arm to direct them away from a sprinkler head poking up from the ground. Rey looks at the sky, squinting to memorize its silvery cloud streaks in case it's the last thing she ever sees. She winces when Ben pulls her shoulder, double-timing to keep up with his longer strides. Her lungs burn. It hurts to inhale. Their footsteps act as anxious percussion beneath the siren's final horrifying screech —

"HAPPY QUARANTINE EVE!"

Ben stops short.

Rey crashes into his side with her remaining momentum, wrenching her hand away to wipe his sweat off her palm. Finally she makes sense of what they heard before:

"HAPPY QUARANTINE EVE!" a loudspeaker announces again. "GOD BLESS AMERICA!"

_It's a fucking prank._

Rey shakes out her limbs with a gnawing mortification. Red & blue flashing lights reflect off nearby trees and she puzzles it together — realizes a horn's blaring from a truck passing the foot of the driveway, going down the road to scare the shit out of people who are on edge already —

"Fucking assholes!"

Ben snarls and kicks a fake log by the firepit, the flimsy seat rolling over the other with an inelegant thud. Rey flinches back several steps. He balls his fists and stomps on the logs with his heel.

"What the fuck!" he yells in disbelief. 

The main room's window lights their spot, revealing Ben's face deeply flushed with rage and shame. Probably more angry he fell for it than anything. Her stomach knots and Rey chokes to calm him down, feeling exactly the same way. One of the logs cracks, echoing in the empty yard like a shot. Rey nearly trips over a loose brick, regains her balance toppling onto the DNA Rock. Ben spins around, features draining when he sees her palm pressed to her sternum.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm —"

"It's fine," she blurts out. "It's… I'm okay."

Ben seems to regret his outburst immediately, pacing around the firepit and running his fingers through his hair. Rey stands in the middle of the circle, teeth chattering from the cold. Adrenaline still courses her veins and swims her vision, wavering when she says,

"F- Fuck, that really scared me."

And she forces a laugh, coming out more like an awkward croak. She meets Ben's hardened gaze, her body refusing to slow.

"Me too," he sighs. He gestures to the deck behind him. "Let's —"

"Yeah," she agrees. Go inside.

Rey crosses her arms, finding herself behind Ben and admiring the view once more. Even as she makes note of his quick temper, of his explosive burst of anger. (He'll probably see hers too, before their seven days are through.) Her nerves are still raw, and her lingering desire confused by his show of intensity.

_Confused is one way to say it —_

Rey puts it out of mind as they ascend the wooden stairs, holding onto the railing. The deck doesn't sag beneath their weight like the gazebo did, mostly maintained to the same standards as the house. A lounge & small table are in a corner, tucked away from the elements. Ben says to himself,

"Should take those inside…"

And distracts himself from whatever he's feeling by hoisting the flimsy lounge under his armpit, clumsily heads for the door leading to the main room. He knocks over the table and it rolls to a stop in a sunken knot of wood by Rey's feet. She picks it up and hears Ben,

"You don't need to do that."

"I don't mind," she replies.

They have some trouble keeping the door propped open, need to set down & pick up the furniture a couple times to get it inside. Rey notices how few words they use to work together, eventually propping the items against the nearest wall. Ben heads to the kitchen and she visits the restroom. She glares at that same stupid sign hanging up in there:

**r e l a x**

"Yeah, like to see you try," she mutters to the inanimate object as she wipes her hands on the little towels.

Rey stares in the mirror, waiting several moments for Ben to stop puttering around. She blots some shine from her skin with a tissue while listening. He puts away a glass. Pushes his bag along the floor. Gets something from the fridge.

_Stop stalling._

His emotions are probably even more confused than hers. And just as messy. She hates this crawling feeling of being unable to gauge how the night will progress. Her intuition for these sorts of things is a strong suit, developed by fending for herself for years. But her current circumstances and even Ben himself… it all keeps upending those expectations consistently.

Rey nods at her reflection before exiting.

Ben sits in that same corner, large feet propped on the coffee table beside a can of soda. Looking at the blank TV, elbows resting on the low spine of the couch. Apparently also lost in his own thoughts, barely stirring when she opens the door.

Rey approaches slowly, tries to act like this is all normal. She drapes the leather jacket over the nearest chair. Already finds herself missing those brief seconds where she forgot everything but Ben. Where she could pretend that they're two normal people who found one another in more ordinary circumstances. That she's visited this home and kissed him countless times before.

Impossible for the short-lived fantasy to last longer.

"Hey," Ben greets, placing his feet on the floor. He glances back to the soda can. "Did you want anything to drink?"

"…No thanks," she answers, more quietly than intended.

He starts again, "If you need anything —"

"I know."

Rey forces another smile, stops a few inches from his knees. The main room seems too quiet. She feels exposed despite her layer of clothes, less than an arm's length away. He rests his elbows on his thighs, hunches over and looks up into her eyes.

They hold still for far too long, too long for them not to be thinking the same thing:

_What now?_

Rey shifts her weight on her feet. Overly aware of where her thighs touch. She peeks down at his lips, meets his gaze again.

"— Are you okay?" Ben's throat moves as he swallows.

The question is more loaded than intended. With too many ways to answer, her decision will inevitably steer how the rest may go.

"I think so." There's a beat. "Better than before."

Ben understands what she means. "Me too."

She crosses her arms, mumbles towards his feet. "Just been so on edge all day —"

Rey interrupts herself with a yawn, covering her mouth halfway when she remembers that's polite to do with company. Ben comments,

"Understandably. Probably tired too."

(And Rey realizes that this is her easy out, her opportunity to bring this first night to its end. All she does is say _yes_ and excuse herself to bed.)

— But her mind is restless, being in this elegant house with the ghosts of a stranger who doesn't feel like a stranger at all. Rey glances at the loft's alcove overlooking the room, unable to shake a sense of being observed. By Ben, by imagined spirits, by the specter of an airborne illness she cannot see. 

"I don't know," she admits. "If I'm tired or not."

Sounds dumb when she says it aloud, but Ben is sympathetic:

"It's okay. You can take a seat. If you want."

He checks the space beside him, resting one hand there and spanning the other across his massive thigh. And leans back against the cushions, scrutinizing her features too closely for it to be accidental…

…The suggestion is nearly imperceptible. His words are open-ended enough that she can decline, while he saves face. Rey inches forward even as she decides. Her shins press against his knees.

She has a whole week. Has known him less than thirteen hours. This time could be different, with her deciding to wait. Instead of feeding her impulsive desire to be wrapped in someone's smell and warmth —

Rey doesn't want to wait. Her heart aches, insisting that she needs this right now more than anything.

— She wets her lips. Turns about in the skinny space between the couch & coffee table, concentrating on the echo of each step. There's a pause when she senses the heat of Ben's stare on her ass and the small of her back. Only another second's hesitation before she lowers, sinking onto his knees and folding into his lap.

His breath hitches in his throat, almost too quiet to hear. Rey moves stiffly into position, that tension keying higher as she wiggles over his hips to get comfortable. He wraps an arm around her waist gently, fingertips tensing to crease the fabric of her shirt.

She sits sideways, draping her legs over Ben and onto the cushions — laying her cheek against his chest — exhaling when he holds her close —

"Thanks, cowpoke," she whispers against him.

His scent is strong, thick in her nose as she burrows into his shirt. He tightens his grip, her legs squirming against the warmth pooling between them again.

"Of course…"

Her body is small against his, rising and falling with his breaths like before. Coming full circle to the corner of the sofa where they started. The moon's risen well above the treeline, dimly illuminating the half-lit main room. Rey opens her mouth to speak, but Ben stops her and murmurs,

"It's okay… You've had a long day."

"Y- Yeah," she agrees, shivering from his proximity. 

Her body reacts to him after months of going without, not since dumping the older hotshot ski instructor she always bickered with. Each second passes like it's much longer in the house's perfect silence, completely separated from the rest of the world. And being cradled in Ben's arms, his free hand creeping higher to her chest, brings her back to that feeling of being lost in a strange dream.

He thumbs the bottom hem of her shirt, sliding beneath the fabric to touch her skin. His palm spans her middle, covering her slim figure easily.

"Ben…"

He stops. Meets her eyes as she relaxes in his grasp, drowns in the smell of his sweat, inhales deeply and she says,

"Don't stop…"

Ben presses his palm to her sternum to feel her thudding heart, fingers cupping her lightly-padded bra. He lingers for several beats, neither breaking the other's gaze. His hand snakes lower beneath the band to hike it above her tits, halting to gauge her racing pulse again —

"Thanks for giving me a ride."

No idea why Ben says that of all things, but her cheeks burn red when she replies,

"Thanks for letting me stay."

She raises her head from his chest, tilting her chin up as his lips hover over hers.

"I should be thanking you for that."

— And he kisses her before she can respond, propping her up to deepen their embrace. Rey sighs into his motions, unravels beneath those enormous hands on her back & chest, her nerves sensitive to every point where they touch. Any restraint they had is gone, replaced with a fervor to explore beyond what they started twice before. His kisses are intense and consuming like his stare, marked by drive that shortens her breaths and heats her cunt.

Rey gasps when he disconnects to taste the curve of her neck, scurrying for the clasp of her bra. His teeth graze her skin as he fumbles to unlatch the thing. Rey arches her spine as a signal to stop and Ben lets go obediently, shuddering underneath her when she pulls off her own top. She tosses the items behind her, thinks she hears them hit the coffee table.

"Rey…"

Ben clutches her middle, tilts his head peering at the bounce of her little tits as he rocks his hips. Her nipples perk in the crisp dry air, poked and prominent like the goosebumps rising on her limbs. She wiggles to sit sideways again and Ben folds her against his chest with his arm hooked beneath her knees. Taking these seconds to sniff her hair and cradle her again.

"…You look cold," he says.

Her voice wavers. "N- Not like this."

He drops her legs, walks his fingers up her sternum to knead her chest, her tits disappearing under his roving hand. She shivers and Ben teases,

"Are you sure? You're shaking."

Rey shuts him up with her mouth, claws at his shirt to scrunch it up to his collar and drape her arms around his neck. She presses her tits to his bare chest, nips the lobe of his ear. Her knees fall open just enough for Ben to notice — and he grabs her breasts hard, smiling when she whines —

"Look at you…"

He peels off his shirt to match her, dropping it behind the sofa while he watches her straddle his hips. Rey swoops in to kiss him, yanking his hair and splitting his lips with her tongue. Ben digs his nails into her sides, grinds up into her jeans. His cock pokes against her despite the layers between them, his breaths getting shorter as he increases his pace.

"Ben," she mumbles against his cheek, striping his jaw and neck with her tongue. "Don't stop…"

And she kneels up to unbutton her pants, trembling when she unzips her fly. She rests her forehead on Ben's shoulder, overwhelmed by the excitement swelling in her chest. He tugs her pants halfway down her thighs, too distracted by her plain blue briefs to bother anymore.

"Fuck, you're so hot —"

Rey loves hearing it. Even in her ugly travelling clothes, chosen for comfort without the faintest idea she'd be taking them off for someone else by the end of the day. Even if he's probably been with women with bigger breasts, with wider hips and less gangly limbs. She can't picture whatever he sees when she catches glimpses of his expression, both awed and eager to lead.

Her eyes widen as he skims his palms up her legs. His features darken with a renewed determination, and he slides around to squeeze her ass and hitch her forward — 

"Oh —"

She squeaks when he licks and bites her tits, having trouble keeping her balance with her pants trapped at her thighs. Another siren wails faintly, too faraway to remind them of anything outside this room. Outside each other. Outside this crazy fucking feeling that she's found something she was meant to have. And the last thing Rey wants is to stop when she can have it now instead of waiting.

"Please," she whimpers, the pathetic sound somehow inspiring him more.

He nods and detaches with a soft pop, leaving her nipples pruned and shined with his spit. He tenses his jaw, pets the thin fabric over her cunt, taps the damp strip between her thighs and asks,

"Wet for me already?"

"W- Want to see?" she stammers, playing along.

"Fuck," he curses again, flinching away from her underwear to unzip his fly. He rests his head back on the couch and chews his lip, finding some relief.

Rey manages to pry herself from his body, rolling off his lap to wriggle out of her pants and kick them onto the floor. Ben doesn't follow suit, smirks when Rey yanks his jeans down towards his knees.

"Let me see —"

And Ben snatches her by the waist to hoist her back onto his lap, licking her breasts when she flops awkwardly onto his head. Rey spreads her legs to sit across his hips, struggles to position her knees with his hands pawing every inch of her skin.

"Someone's excited," she snickers, attempting to hide her growing desperation by acting cool.

"Show me," he grunts, returning to her prior words.

He kisses her hard, stuffs his hand between them to pull aside her underwear instead of bothering with the elastic band. She bites his lip feeling his fingertips comb through her hair, curling around to trace a path along her slit. He dips a single finger inside, losing his words when she tightens around his entry.

"S- See?" she shudders.

"Yeah…"

Ben slides deeper, mouth gaping open as he marvels at how strongly she reacts to his lightest touch. He crowds another finger inside, intently focused on how she soaks down his knuckles and tilts her hips.

"Rey…"

His voice is low, commanding, bending in tone. Different enough to rouse her from this uncanny dream — reminding her of his confession, his anger in the yard, his fist on the driver's window shouting at the man by the toll booths —

_Barely knows him at all…_

Rey scratches Ben's shoulders holding her balance, using her weight to bob on his fingers, kneeled above his tented boxers. She stares down at a large scar on his side, the healed area slightly raised. A pang of guilt beats through her ribs, needling her to remember she only met him hours ago. Now she's chasing the attention and touch of an older man again…

"More," she insists, widening her stance.

"Anything —"

Ben forces a third finger into her cunt, grabs her ass with his other hand. Rey moans shaping to his intrusion, the thick stretch cresting her higher after being edged with tension all day.

(Day, her guilt prods.)

— "Do you want me inside you?"

Ben asks with a need as intense as his stare. And a part of Rey wonders if it should scare her, but right now it's the hottest thing she's ever seen. She looks down at his fingers plugging her cunt, her body angling to fuck his wrist urgently.

"Y- Yes," Rey sighs, bringing her hand down to feel her own wetness on his skin.

She trails upward to rub her clit, shuddering into every tiny circling motion. Ben studies her movements and swelling nub, licking his teeth — 

**wait**

His voice cuts through the blood rushing her ears. "Are you on anything?"

_This time can be different…_

Rey dismisses the thought completely and answers Ben, "I have an IUD."

He withdraws with a slick noise that seems too loud in the empty room. He licks his fingers, catching her eyes before he says,

"Keep touching yourself."

And slaps her ass as a signal to move, the hard clap making her flinch. She topples onto the cushion beside him, props her heels on the edge to heed his instructions eagerly. Rey slumps into the fabric, kind of scratchy on her naked body. Soaks her fingers against her opening, smears her bulbed & sensitive clit. Ben's ragged breaths and rustling clothes spur her on, her desire flooding her veins to silence that little voice trying to convince her just once more:

_He won't look at you the same way after this._

Her limbs are blurred in her reflection on the TV, splayed open for Ben's approval and dimly presented on the blank screen. She peeks up at the alcove again, at the cracked doorway to the restroom, at her wiggling toes and squirming hips —

"Perfect," Ben whispers.

And she moans softly, clenching hard beneath his gaze. He kicks the coffee table tugging down his jeans. His boxers follow to the floor. He bends down, shuffles his clothes, tosses something onto the cushion beside him. The sofa bounces when he leans in to feather the edges of her opening, his voice shaking when he asks again,

"Y- You want me inside you?"

He drops his hand, rests his back against the couch. A couple beats pass before a tiny clicking sound breaks the silence. Rey opens her eyes and answers,

"Yes…"

Her breath catches finally seeing his cock. Proportionate like she imagined, big and sturdy like the rest of him, pointed hard & ready to take her, still looking thick and solid in his own grip. She drops her hands from her cunt, lips parted as she crawls closer and gawks shamelessly.

_Holy shit._ Somehow she manages not to say it aloud.

Ben chews his bottom lip below furrowed brows, his features half-shadowed into a bold relief. He jerks off faster, bucks his hips and grunts,

"Say it."

She doesn't understand. "S- Say what?"

"Say you want me inside you."

Her heart drops to her stomach. He doesn't seem to believe this is happening — even now, when she's writhing pathetically for his touch —

"Say it," he insists, narrowing his gaze.

Rey nods, settles her palm on his heaving shoulder. Her knees poke his bouncing thigh. The air flowers heavily with the scent of her arousal, mixing with their sweat. She lays her hand on his sternum to feel his heart like he did to her before.

"B- Ben?"

His eyes dart to meet hers, pausing with gritted teeth. She spies a condom next to him on the couch, his idle hand scooting around to find it blindly. And she isn't sure what he wants to hear exactly, but tries something anyway:

"I… really want to feel you inside me."

He tugs himself a couple times, rubs his thumb over his tip. "You do?"

She nods. "Yeah —"

"Say it again."

Her throat dries, wondering if she should have expected that the guy she picked up in an airport garage might have his own… thing. But with his hair clinging to his neck, his well-kept body on display, his rigid length waiting to split her wide — she's too hot for him to think about something good to say:

"I really want your cock, Ben —"

That seems to work. He finds the condom and bites a corner of the wrapper with his teeth. All the blood from his head is too busy below, his motions distracted & disjointed trying to roll on the sheath. Ben keeps egging her on,

"Want me to fill up your tight little cunt?"

Her face burns hot hearing those words in that voice and a part of her hates how needy & vulgar she sounds,

"Fuck, yes, I really want your cock —"

Finally Ben gets the condom on. He says,

"I've wanted to be inside you all day…"

He doesn't waste anymore time, tugging her arms to drag her onto his lap. Rey straddles his thighs, spreading her wetness on his skin, still gaping at his cock. He circles her waist to hoist her higher, encouraging her to position for entry. She kneels up, holds onto his broad shoulders. Balances on one hand to pry herself wider, inhaling sharply as Ben lines up beneath her and nudges her swollen clit —

She whispers, "Please…"

— A whole day's worth of held hands, stolen glances, whispered promises, and physical tension leads to this. To these final beats of anticipation getting lost in the other's half-lidded eyes trying to find a fit. He smears the head against her opening, pushes in the tip — 

Ben sighs, "Anything…"

And Rey sinks onto his cock, cheeks hollow trying to steady her breaths. She fills herself slowly, making a show of settling around his size with every inch. His stare is fixed where their bodies meet, dumbstruck at how he disappears inside her. His nails leave behind little moons on her hips, clasping hard like he's afraid she'll leave. He hampers her progress to extend his initial penetration as long as he can. His bitten lips form a ring as he exhales, struggling to hold still —

"Oh fuck," she chokes, fully seated on his length. 

She bears down harshly, cinching Ben into her deeper and gasping with the snug fit. He bucks his hips hard, bouncing her with a strong solid motion and prodding against where she ends.

"A- Ah —"

Rey winces from the sting, not exaggerating this time. He loosens his grip, smooths her hair away from her face.

"Are you…"

His fingers tense against her cheek as she nods. She wraps her arms around his neck, hovers her lips by his ear and starts to move.

"Ben…"

She tastes the salt of his sweat, buries her nose in his hair. Grinds her hips to dwell in the sensation of being so full. He lays his palms across her back, shudders pressing her against his chest. She feels small & safe folded to his body and impaled by his length — 

"So tight," he groans.

— She clenches in response, smiling against his skin. He rolls his hips as she comes down, echoing her motions to heighten the friction. He slaps her ass and she uses her teeth on his neck, biting harder when he squeezes the flushed cheek. 

"Rey…"

She wants to hear her name again and again, to be consumed by the fantasy of being someone's One And Only. His fascination with her is obvious in his powerful movements and unbroken attention, like he isn't sure he'll have this opportunity again. And Rey heaves on his cock to find a rhythm, all instincts honed on finally getting her release.

_But a part of her expected their first time to be slow and sweet, instead of hard and desperate like this…_

…She puts it out of mind again, refusing to guilt herself for acting on her desire after hours & hours of stress and and constraint — from being trapped in a city to a cab to a car, from tamping fear & uncertainty at each stop, from the existential anxiety creeping higher with every news update —

"Oh god!" Rey cries out, rocking faster despite the burn in her thighs.

Perspiration falls from her chin to maze down Ben's chest, shining the red lines left by her nails. He grabs her hips to help her along, to steer her slim figure like a ragdoll. He supports her weight with those huge fucking hands that've distracted her all day, bobbing her on his cock effortlessly.

Their panting breaths and slapping skin echo in the cavernous room. Rey opens her eyes, briefly stares above Ben's shoulder to the empty kitchen and his duffel bag next to a stool on the floor. Shame twists in her ribs again, admonishing her for defiling a dead woman's couch with her son who last spoke to her eight years ago.

But this is more than a fling. More than a quick lay. Or at least it seems like that, it's what that childishly hopeful part of her heart wants it to be. Maybe it's the adrenaline of impending quarantine, the result of a high-strung day, the constant reassurances that she's _not alone_ — 

Sex has **never** felt like **this** before. She remembers how Ben teased her earlier, wants him to know:

"You're gonna make me come so hard —"

Ben grinds his jaw, watches her cunt gloss his length as she pumps him like a piston, her joints and muscles and lungs starting to ache. He tightens his grip on her ass, uses his arms to keep up her speed. Rey holds onto the back edge of the sofa for leverage, slotting hard when Ben shoves her down. He shudders careening nearer to his end:

"Touch yourself again —"

Her hand flies to her clit before he finishes the last word. She struggles to maintain her balance with Ben taking the lead from below. Her cunt soaks their thighs, pulses in time with her circles on her nub. Her hair sticks to her forehead & feathers her collarbone, her hips churning with a growing warmth. She braces on the couch to find the right angle, rubbing herself feverishly.

"— You're gonna come really hard and loud for me, Rey?"

She whimpers and nods, breath skipping when he changes where he ends inside her. He taps against her terminus again. Rey flinches and a grin curls up his lips.

"You're taking my cock so good," he shivers.

"F- Fuck, it's so big —"

Ben likes that, incited to abandon any remaining discipline or self-control. He leaves marks where he seizes her hips to pin her in place, pushing up into her cunt as her fingers keep smudging her wet & swollen clit. She angles just enough to bump his tip where she wants it most. Rey meets his narrowed eyes, sharp and wolfish with a subtle darkness that makes her feel both invaded and occupied and really full —

_And right now, finally, she can just… let go._

Heat floods and tightens her cunt, building her towards climax despite exhaustion weighing her limbs. Her body starts to teeter and tremble. Ben's arms have a little shake.

Neither of them are going to last much longer like this.

"Oh my god," Rey moans. "I —"

"You're gonna come for me, Rey?"

"F- Fuck, yes, I — I'm so close —"

And he feels so close too, in the other sense, both of them collapsing headfirst into this crazy intense experience & connection they shared. She squeezes her eyes shut, biting her lip as she builds and hears Ben say,

"I can't wait to see the face you make when you come…"

His voice crawls through her bones like a rolling tide. She wants to show him, thighs clamping when she coasts along her final edge, loud like she promised with her noises echoing in the room. All the stress of these weeks disappear, fading to perfect blank white screen — with nothing to derail her from getting her end — 

"I'm gonna come so hard, I'm…"

"Come for me, Rey —"

_She's so fucking close._

"I- I'm —"

He pulls her hair to whisper into her ear. "Come really really good for me…"

And she does, moaning shamelessly like a sated animal, barely holding up her limp body with both hands on the couch. Her cunt soaks Ben down to his base, her bottom half tensing sharply to keep him placed. Her heart pounds in these mindless seconds of bliss, her thoughts completely empty and clear. Her ragged sounds barely register, her senses overwhelmed by Ben's scent, his touch, his intensity, his huge fucking cock — 

His motions get disjointed and messy, wholly focused on staving himself off. He keeps pumping through her orgasm, hips slamming to feel every inch inside her. A choked sound makes Rey look down, her chest heaving as she unwinds. Ben's eyes are closed above gritted teeth, hair clinging to his face with sweat beading his nose. He grips her legs roughly enough for her to wonder if they'll bruise.

"R- Rey," he manages between labored breaths.

She sweeps in to kiss his collarbone, his neck, to mark a trail to his ears. His final movements make a faster slicker sound than before, pressing into her wetness as she clenches up to urge him more. He gasps crashing into his release, forcing her on his cock to unload as deep as he can. His features pinch and twist, hips rolling when his orgasm buries him in that same blank state.

_And she memorizes that face he makes, imagines him doing the same to her…_

He comes really hard, spilling heavily into the sheath. His nerves are raw, body shivering and reacting sharply from Rey's touch. She lies on his chest, cheek sticky on his skin, also shuddering to regain her bearings as she comes down. Ben takes some seconds to recover, inhaling slowly before he rests his palm on her back. Their hearts beat wildly, creating a strange drumbeat in Rey's ears.

Silence falls as he softens inside her. Both of them afraid to move or speak.

He does first. "That was amazing."

He kisses her forehead, says it again,

"You're amazing."

She loves hearing it. She wants to believe it.

_Really they're platitudes from someone she barely knows._

But that was… "Yeah," she agrees. "Holy shit."

Ben hugs her and chuckles, starts to unsettle beneath her. "Holy shit is right."

He smacks her ass again, light and playful this time, shifting to get her to move —

Her heart leaps and she kisses him again, grabbing his cheeks to keep him pinned inside her body and his warmth close. He cups the back of her head, returning it with the same passion for just a couple seconds…

Ben disconnects, face ruddied with bitten lips. "You're cute."

He nods towards the restroom and Rey takes the hint. She dismounts him sheepishly, burrowing into the L-corner cushion as he unrolls the condom. The used sheath hangs awkwardly from his hand when he heads inside and closes the door.

Rey is completely mortified.

She wishes the sofa would swallow her whole.

_Why did she kiss him like that —_

He'll think she's needy or clingy. That she's easy to bed and to deceive. That she's falling for him too quickly — 

_What if she is?_

Rey checks the time on the cable box. Earlier than it seems. The realization just makes her more uneasy. She frowns and shifts in her seat, her cunt flushed and heavy with a lingering sensitivity. Her stomach twists with too many mixed feelings to enjoy it really, suddenly aware of the house watching again.

She pictures silhouettes peering down from the alcove disapprovingly, all the possible faces flitting across her memory. The stress of the day heightened her release, but a part of her isn't even entirely sure how she ended up here. Stuck without a plan when told not to bother trying to make it "home." Instantly accepting an invitation from some stranger who admitted to not being in the house for over a decade. Then fucking him hours after meeting, just so he can toss her aside after quarantine —

No. Ben doesn't seem like that kind of guy.

But she imagines telling Finn and Rose the story, sees their eyes dart to the floor uncomfortably.

Rey shivers. This time she really is cold.

— The door opens. Seeing Ben naked is surprising despite having done so just minutes before. Somehow he seems more… pale. She crosses her arms and forces a smile, standing up wordlessly and passing right by him to go into the bathroom.

Hopefully she's not making things worse. She does her business with her palms covering her face, unsure if this night is a victory or defeat. Does it even matter, if one of them did get infected today and they're dead in two weeks?

Rey glares at the sign washing her hands once more:

**r e l a x**

And splashes water on her face, ignoring her messy hair and the red splotches blooming on her skin. She peeks down at her hips, sees two fingerprints beginning to bruise.

Fuck, she got off so hard though.

Was worth it for that at least. Even if he ends up forgetting and leaving her like most inevitably do.

_But he really seemed to mean it. When he said she wasn't alone…_

Ben pretends to be casual on the sofa when she returns to the main room, making no mention of her abrupt exit. His clothes are kicked beneath the coffee table, where half her shirt is pooled on the floor. He runs his hand through his hair, glancing up & down her goosebumped body, tits hidden behind crossed arms again. He seems to notice something as she approaches, brushing his fingers across her hips when she reaches his knees.

He presses his thumb on a bruise. "Was that… too much? Or —"

"No, it was —"

She blabs some words to stop his nervous tone, rushing with a note of regret before she even said anything. He doesn't turn away from the mark, peering in close. She tries to finish the thought:

"That was amazing." Like he said. "Yeah."

He's not totally convinced. "If it was —"

She rests a hand on his shoulder. "I would've said something."

Ben nods and leads her to sit on his lap again, guiding her far more hesitantly than earlier. Some awkward shuffling follows as she seats herself, avoiding hitting her tailbone or squashing his flaccid cock. He drapes his arms around her to hold her near, his skin cool with dried sweat. Rey shudders and he tightens his grip, asking sweetly:

"Are you cold?"

The same charade. But this time she is. "A little bit."

He rubs her arms for some friction, smiling into her scalp. "I can get a blanket, or —"

"I'll be fine," Rey insists, shrugging off Ben's embrace. "It's fine. I…"

Her stomach twists with a regret that Ben wouldn't possibly understand. Her body feels lanky and achy and overly exposed, her cunt slick and sore. His broad solid frame feels stiff, stilted like their conversation, and Rey knows without a doubt she's made things… strange.

"I'm just tired," she says, covering her teeth with her lips. Keeps looking at the blank TV instead of Ben's eyes.

"I'll bet," he quips, grazing his knuckles on her burning thighs.

Rey frowns, unnerved by his humorous tone but she can't really place why. "It's been a really long day."

"Definitely."

Rey gets to her feet, unconsciously hunching to hide her body from Ben. She searches for her clothes on the floor hastily, throwing on her shirt before finding the bra on the coffee table. 

"— Rey?"

She hikes up her underwear, turns to face Ben with her pants still at her feet. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

Not really. "Yeah. Just tired."

He straightens his posture, keeps peeking down at his body self-consciously. "Did you want to… go lie down?"

"Think so." There's a beat. "Yeah. I'm about to fall over."

Rey finishes dressing, knows that Ben stares the whole time. She needs to find the right thing to say — or to say anything at least — but absolutely nothing comes to mind. She hangs her bra off her shoulder, turns round to face Ben.

His expression is softer than she expects. More vulnerable than upset. Despite his enormous size, the confusion he fails to conceal makes him seem small sitting below her.

_Like the boy glaring out of the family photos in the hall upstairs._

"Did you want me to —"

Walk her. Guide her. Carry her. It doesn't matter.

"I'll be okay." She swallows hard. "I have an alarm set for lockdown. Make a call. Go back to sleep." Another beat. "I think… I think this will be a really great week."

Sounds like bullshit. Ben probably thinks he did something wrong.

"I just have trouble. With new places." Fuck, she's overexplaining. "Been to so many. Long day. Virus. And —"

"Yeah."

He tenses his jaw when their eyes meet. Still hasn't even reached for his clothes. Rey wets her lips, glances to the alcove and says,

"I'm gonna try to sleep. Before the alarm." Even though it isn't terribly late. "Don't wake me up if I sleep through it."

Some seconds follow. "Okay."

She bites inside her cheek, bends to kiss Ben on his lips, rubbing her palms up & down his arms. He returns it with the same longing as she did during their come-down earlier, tugging her head towards him the first time she tries to disconnect. He gets the message the second time, keeps his palm on her cheek when she pulls back.

"Thank you," she whispers. "That was really amazing."

And she kisses the tip of his nose before walking away.

Rey checks over her shoulder once as she leaves, throwing Ben a little wink. He leans with one elbow on the sofa's back, stone-faced while he watches her go. His stare is almost physical, trailing her spine like a shadow as she walks into the foyer. She avoids her reflection in the hallway mirrors. Notices her shoes tossed aside Ben's by the landing. Keeps her steps light ascending to the second floor, ears tuned for movement from the main room.

But she hears nothing. Not when she pauses by that same Earth Day photo. Not when she peeks at the corkboard by the master suite. Not when she lingers by Ben's old bedroom, looking at the plain white closed door. Her clothes feel like they shouldn't be on her skin, belong to another person wandering in a random house. She hesitates once more by the dumbwaiter (or the "luggage lift" as Ben called it). Stands at the bottom of the ladder to the loft.

Either Ben is extremely quiet or he hasn't moved at all. And given the volume of his footsteps all night, the latter is more likely. Rey chews her lip, her vision misting with tears.

_Fuck, she doesn't want to cry again —_

And she skitters up the ladder, collapses onto the mattress. The sheets are comfortable, crisp, and clean. Rey presses her face into a pillow, eyes stinging and wetting the fabric. She inhales deeply, dizzy from a lack of air, and rolls over to watch the ceiling. The alcove's angle cuts the lights from the main room into bands of shadows.

Some minutes pass before Ben moves. He finds his clothes, putters around the main room, switches off lights, and picks up his bag along the way. Rey wiggles out of her jeans and dirty t-shirt, kicks them from under the covers onto the floor.

Only moonlight illuminates the alcove, very little from the skylight and those bands crossing like bows from the main room. Ben trudges through the foyer, up the stairs. He stops at the top of the second floor, waiting as she did before.

Her heart races with him so near. But that needling guilt pricks her ribs again, assuming he thinks less of her. (She frowns, remembers overhearing "Rey gives it up easily.") Or maybe she's just thinking less of herself for no reason, and he's completely smitten still —

Ben goes into his bedroom and shuts the door. He drops his bag, opens and closes a drawer.

Then silence.

_He said she wasn't alone._

Even if she's heard similar promises, that doesn't mean Ben will be the same…

_This should have been special._

_She should have waited._

Rey sniffles. Wipes her nose with the back of her hand.

A knob clicks. A door opens. A floorboard creaks beneath heavy footsteps that stop at the loft.

No noise follows. Like a long held breath.

Rey brings the covers to her chin, cheeks burning with tears she can't hold back anymore.

Ben clears his throat at the bottom of the ladder.

"Rey?"

She blinks, trying to decide whether to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading. Hope you're feeling well and staying safe ❤
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you so much for your patience. Sincerely apologize for over a month between updates, have been in a strange headspace past few weeks. Doing okay and staying safe here in the USA + hope that you are doing okay too. Thank you again for your comments & feedback along the way, for your encouragement and support. Thank you [weddersins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weddersins/) for beta reading and for being such an amazing friend ❤
> 
> Only one more chapter left to go after this 🙂 Hope you enjoy:

Ben holds still at the bottom of the ladder, listening to determine whether she's asleep.

Rey burrows into the mattress, keeps the covers to her chin. She shivers beneath the sheets, her shirt and jeans and bra piled on the floor. Her underwear is stiff, dried of her earlier arousal, awkwardly misplaced like being in this stranger's bed.

She doesn't know what to say, wishes she could see his expressive face. Bites the skin behind her lip to fight back tears.

_Anything she says will just make it worse…_

Ben shifts his weight. A soft thump follows, almost too quiet for Rey to hear. Next, a tiny squeak. The vibration of taut cords, maybe strings. A beat of silence passes. Then a mechanical notching sound rises with a little swing, like a skittering mouse.

"Shit," Ben mutters, perhaps making more noise than intended.

Rey holds her breath, heart leaping to her throat. Afraid to move and reveal that she's awake. She stares at the shadows on the ceiling, waits for the noise to stop.

It does.

And nothing happens. Ben lingers for several more seconds before his heavy footsteps trail away. He returns to his bedroom, carefully closes the door. 

Her racing pulse thuds in her ears, curiosity and apprehension grappling over what to do next. The former wins out and Rey counts to three. Sits up slowly in the bed, draping the comforter from her shoulders to warm her bare chest.

Her eyes scan the loft adjusting to the dim moonlight — checking the room's perimeter, the railing overlooking the main room, her duffel bag still zipped on an area rug, the untouched drawers & loveseat. Her stomach drops settling on the top of the ladder, recognizing the new shape beside it:

A water bottle on the luggage lift.

Ready for her whenever she wakes.

_Fuck, she really is going to cry again —_

Rey blots her eyes with the blanket. The gesture is small but significant, gently mindful of her presence while respecting her desire for distance. It means so much more than Ben realizes. And right now he's probably on his bed, asking himself what he did wrong…

She inhales deeply through her nose, managing to fight back her tears. A part of her insists she should stay behind and fall asleep, whispers that she's done enough to confuse him already. She crosses her legs beneath the sheets, overly aware of the ache still ebbing in her cunt.

Too much happened in these hours for her to leave their first night on this note. The bands of shadow striping the loft seem to shift subtly, reminding her that more time's passing quickly.

If she waits too long, he'll be asleep.

_Isn't that what she wants?_

She considers. Then answers herself honestly:

**No.**

Rey drops the sheets and wipes her nose with the back of her hand, then on the comforter with a self-conscious frown. She can come up with something (anything) for him to know she meant it when she said he wasn't alone —

And that her feelings haven't changed.

_She hopes Ben's haven't either. That she hasn't messed this up beyond repair._

Rey kicks off the covers and places her feet on the hardwood floors. The mattress springs creak as she rises and she pauses at a stand, listening to the house intently. A chill passes through her as she toes to her duffel bag in only her blue briefs. She kneels next to it, covering her teeth with her lips when she tries to drag the zipper silently. It doesn't work, making a peeling noise that seems much louder than it is.

She finds a floral patterned top she brought for sleep, thin from years of use. Throws it on without a bra. Rummages around for a specific pair of underwear she knows are clean, black and skinny with thin borders of lace. Just in case. Rey hesitates feeling the fabric between her fingers, listens for Ben once again —

Nothing.

She slips on the underwear, then a pair of cotton drawstring shorts. The rug leaves prints on her shins, only a stripe of her bottoms visible beneath her long t-shirt, almost all her legs bare. She smooths down the front of her sleeping clothes, sees a light flashing on her cell.

A text from Finn asking how she's doing.

_How does she even answer that?_

He and Rose won't be concerned if she doesn't answer until tomorrow. Rey swipes away the notification, sets an alarm to call Palps around lockdown, and plugs in her phone next to the loveseat. Balances her device on the armrest, stares at the blank screen as she takes down her hair.

She pauses. Hears a soft thump downstairs, coming from the bedroom.

Ben must be up.

Rey balls her hands into fists.

This shouldn't be so hard. But for some reason it is, her chest tightening with both longing and dread. She pads across the floor to the ladder, stalls by the dumbwaiter to take a sip of water. The plastic bottle cracks when she breaks the seal, probably giving her away.

No more excuses. No more wavering — 

Rey feels detached from her body descending the dark ladder, the area shadowed away from the moonlight. She grips the sides hard, peeking down to confirm her footing along the way. The floorboards squeak when she reaches the bottom, sending her heartbeat flying again.

She turns about, spots a strip of light beneath Ben's bedroom door. Gray and faded, half-on like he can't decide whether to close his lamp to sleep. A little lantern hanging on a faraway tree in the grotto she imagined in the backyard earlier. Hiding a gate to another land, a boundary to the next part of their story.

Whatever it is.

She blinks. Hovers her fist a couple inches from the door — 

"…Rey?"

Fuck. "Hey."

Rustling fabric follows. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." She crosses her arms. "Can I —"

"Of course." Before she even finishes the words.

"Okay…"

Her hand shakes reaching for the doorknob. She pushes the entry and it opens with a slow groan, comes to a stop when the room is fully shown.

Ben sits up on a queen-sized bed with off-white sheets that probably came with a label like _eggshell_ or _bone_. He straightens his posture, his enormous feet perched on a shaggy area rug next to the bed. A matching one flanks the other side, complemented by identical chrome nightstands with bowed legs. The lamps are short & squat with wide shades in the same upscale vintage mod style as the rest. Only one is on, casting a low white glare over the room. The space was clearly remade for guests, wiped of any personal touch or memory.

Rey looks to the floor, avoiding Ben's eyes. And his broad bare chest, wearing nothing to sleep but a pair of very high-waisted pants. He seems too big for the bed, his company looming large in her thoughts. He stares at her in the doorway, his observation hesitant but obvious. Rey keeps her arms folded over her chest, propping herself upright when she greets him with his name,

"Ben?"

There's a beat. "Yes?"

Her breath catches in her throat, recognizing a familiar regret lining his features. One that she's seen on her own.

Rey says, "I'm sorry."

Ben tilts his head, long dark hair framing his angular face and chin. His voice is faint, strained by an odd tone.

"For what?"

_For being so closed off. For assuming the worst._

"…For leaving like that before," she manages. "I should've stayed."

Ben tenses his jaw, unsure how to reply, apparently more surprised by her statement than arrival. He answers,

"You don't have anything to apologize for."

But she feels like she does. "I just —"

He insists, "It's okay."

Ben trails off, glancing down her legs. A smattering of fading marks linger on one thigh, below the covered pair of bruises on her hip. He itches the pink stripes her nails left on his chest. Rey breaks the short silence that passes:

"You didn't do anything wrong." His eyes dart away. She continues, "I just got worried you would… I don't know…"

_She does know. But isn't sure how to explain._

Ben looks to her again, quiet when he asks,

"Worried I would what?"

Rey takes a couple steps into the room. She sighs, feeling childish when she comes out with it,

"Think differently of me."

Ben furrows his brows, visibly confused. "Think differently how?"

Rey bites the skin behind her lip. Reminds herself she came to open up to him as he did for her, to reciprocate that show of trust. She forces her feet to move, her legs to turn & perch beside Ben on the edge of the mattress. Sitting with that polite distance between them again. 

Rey feels small next to him on the bed, the pants making his frame seem broader. She folds her hands on her lap to give them something to do. His weight shifts her seat as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. With all his attention fixed on her —

"That it was moving too fast. That I'm…" She repeats the word she overheard in the bathroom stall at a bar less than a year ago. "A slut. Easy. And you wouldn't want to…"

She inhales deeply.

_Just say it._

"…That you wouldn't want to see me after this week. That I'm not —"

"Rey."

Ben covers her hands in her lap, lacing their fingers together again. She feels his pulse on his wrist. He blocks part of the lamplight leaning in close, like a weakened beast in a dim cave. Maybe something she'd find behind the gate she imagined before.

Rey opens her mouth to speak, then:

"Stop." Ben tightens his grip. "You're amazing."

Her stomach flips. "But —"

"I meant it."

Rey blushes deeply, heating her cheeks. Maybe a silly compliment to him, but she loves to hear it after so much stress and uncertainty. (Even before covid, still struggling to navigate through her semi-new life in Vermont.) And being in this unfamiliar house in an unknown town with this kind stranger is too much like a fairy tale to be true…

A part of her still doesn't believe him. These kinds of things don't happen to girls like her.

"You don't even know me," Rey says.

"I don't expect you to trust me." He brushes her palm with his thumb. "But I do mean it."

She shuts her eyes to listen to the blood coursing her veins — threading through her heart with a nudge to take his word, to let go of whatever's holding her back — and just believe that he's being sincere —

"Okay," she whispers.

His fingertips shake flicking aside some hair falling over her nose, tucking it behind her ear to view her in profile. Ben traces his knuckles down her arm, raising goosebumps on her flesh. He adds,

"Really. And way out of my league."

She flashes a playful glare. "Oh please."

"Seriously." Ben chuckles a little bit. "You're…" He scans her body obviously, thin shirt outlining her tits. "You're something else."

"Thank you," she murmurs, tickling his hand.

Ben nudges her shoulder with his, kisses her temple and pulls back. "You're welcome."

And Rey lets herself smile, a thin curl turning up her lips. Her heart flutters with that exciting anticipation she felt in the gazebo before. That exhilaration of meeting someone new. The thrill of reciprocated attraction and intrigue and —

Ben interrupts her racing thoughts with a kiss on the tip of her nose. Mimicking her sheepish farewell from earlier. He speaks low next to her ear,

"Are you okay?"

He doesn't mean anything by it, but the warmth of his breath on her neck makes Rey shudder unconsciously. She answers,

"I am now."

And she means it, grinning broadly and exhaling with relief. She rests her head against Ben, lays her cheek on his arm to feel his skin. She seems to soothe him too, his muscles relaxing beneath her touch.

Some time passes. Maybe seconds. Maybe a full minute. The silence is welcome, comfortable without being awkward. A peaceful moment for them to sit quietly in their little haven away from the rest of the world and just… enjoy the other's company. Let that connection keep unraveling and deepening and bringing them together —

(Rey wonders if Ben feels it too.)

Eventually he asks, "Is the loft okay?"

"It's nice," she replies noncommittally. "Is this your… aesthetic?"

She points to the thick framed mirror propped on a chest of drawers. Ben shakes his head.

"My mother's. Those drawers were mine before. This bedframe." He indicates a half-folded drafting desk tucked into a corner. "The desk. That print."

Ben gestures towards a stylized schematic diagram of a sportscar's inner workings. A blue grid with white print and some squares with magnified additional details. The picture is in a red frame, the only flare of unneutral color in the room.

"That's it," he concludes. "Redecorated when my father was still around."

Rey nods, unsure how to respond to any reference to Ben's father. His former bedroom seems cramped with a flat ceiling and square windows, compared to the sloping roof and view of the main room from the loft. And the style is… not to Rey's taste. But her limbs are heavy, the day's exhaustion catching up to her body. She senses Ben's weariness too, slowing his even breaths.

Rey freezes, not wanting to move, unwinding with Ben's warmth and proximity. She shuts her eyes briefly, thinks about falling asleep on his chest… close to his smell, presence, and touch… 

Despite his constant reassurances —

_Anything._

— her ribs cinch with nervous misgiving. What if she crosses an unknown boundary by asking, or what if he prefers to sleep alone, or — 

Ben turns to look at her, noticing her pulse pick up at her wrist. His stare remains intense, somewhat unnerving, but totally smitten by her still. Even after she ran off earlier. Even after seeing her cry how many times today. Even after she needed to crash here unexpectedly, couch surfing like she always used to.

Now or never.

"…Ben?"

He refuses to look away. "Yes?"

After some seconds, finally Rey whispers,

"I don't want to sleep alone tonight."

Somehow she holds his gaze despite that loopy sensation he stirs in her chest —

"Neither do I."

A lump swells in her throat again and she remembers how to speak,

"Is… upstairs okay?"

"Sure," he replies without any hesitation.

"Alright," she says lamely.

Ben puts them in motion, bouncing the mattress as he stands. He circles the bed to close the nightstand lamp, shrouding the room in darkness. His outline is barely visible with only feeble moonlight from the hallway coming through the open door. Rey stays on the bed, spine straight with a creeping sensation of being watched.

_…She likes it. Knowing it's Ben._

His heavy footsteps cross the bedroom, his silhouette pausing in the doorframe.

"I'll meet you up there," he tells her.

And his shadow shrinks towards the restroom he pointed out before. A latch opens & closes with a resonating click.

Finally Rey's limbs catch up with the rest of her, leading her towards the ladder. She lingers at the bottom, peeking at the lift still hanging by the top with its half-full bottle of water. Ben ducks into his bedroom a second and returns before long, his upper half paled by the dramatic cut of his sleeping pants. He glances at the metal sculptures Rey noticed earlier and she asks,

"Who made those?"

He seems to know what she means. "My father made them out of scrap metal. Junk parts. Things like that."

Rey presses her lips to a line, not intending to broach the subject again. She nods, pivots to ascend the ladder —

"Nice view from down here," Ben says.

Thankfully the poor lighting hides her bright red cheeks. Rey pauses at her rung, checks over her shoulder to see Ben watching her climb from below. Her shorts are hiked up her thighs, revealing the lower curve of her bottom.

"Uh huh," she responds, trying to act casual.

Rey smooths down her clothes when she reaches the loft, listens to Ben's footholds echo through the house. She has a compulsion to keep her voice down despite knowing they're alone. A habit from crowded places she was supposed to call home. A show of respect for the ghosts that are still here (in spirit, at least). A result of the later hour, when all the daytime creatures hush to find some sleep — 

Her sight adjusts to the dim lighting once again, seeing Ben fumble onto the landing. His presence keeps halting her meandering thoughts, in a centering sort of way. He scans the room when he enters, pauses on Rey standing beside the bed. 

She shrugs with a shy grin he probably can't see, _here we are_ , and wanders to the railing overlooking the main room to see through the huge window. The night is quiet despite the chaos only miles away outside.

(During those minutes with Ben, she almost forgot there's a virus at all.)

The house is a temporary refuge from the real world's mess, but… still a strange place after growing accustomed to another. The uneven mattress, down cover, and jersey sheets at Palps's cabin became comfortable after months of staying. She struggles to push down an instinctive agitation spurred by sleeping in new beds. A habit that's followed since she was a girl, no matter how many times Rey's done it previously — a reaction to _adjusting_ her old social worker Maz might say.

Somehow the view reminds her of the unusual circumstances more poignantly than before. This isn't an overnight or a vacation — instead another moorless "stay."

Ben joins her at the railing, copying her lean a few inches away. He observes her with a note of concern creasing his brows, probably detecting her restlessness. Rey crosses her legs at her ankles to busy her limbs, deciding to be honest when Ben asks,

"Are you okay?"

"Kind of."

Rey yawns on cue, stretching her arms and arching her back to perk out her tits. She scratches the back of her neck and adds,

"Tired too."

"It's been a really long day," Ben remarks.

"Tell me about it."

Rey sighs, crossing her arms as she surveys the main room from the alcove. Hardly how she expected to end her evening. First she assumed Dooku would pick her up from Burlington's airport after a short trip. Then that she'd be trapped in a random car on a highway or backroad somewhere, chugging energy shots and blasting music. Then that she'd be doing that alone after dropping off a hitchhiker on her way up north — 

A lot has happened when Rey thinks about it. But maybe this is the way it was supposed to be all along.

Best of all possible versions, really. 

(One way to reframe the crawling nerves overturning her stomach at least.)

The errant thought brightens her grin briefly and Ben comments,

"You have a really beautiful smile."

"Jeez," she reacts automatically.

"Sorry," he says, glancing away like he worries he's said too much — 

"Thank you," Rey hurries. "You're… pretty cute too."

And she tries another wink, which she's done more times today than the past six months. He takes the compliment, fails to conceal a little smile of his own gesturing to the bed. She heeds the signal wordlessly, both of them circling to their opposite ends. Perched on the edge of the mattress, hesitating one last second before running headfirst into whatever's evolving between them.

Rey breaks the unspoken tension with a graceless flop onto the pillows, spreading her arms & legs to cover most of the available space.

"You mind?" she quips.

Ben drops onto the bed, landing square on her wrist. He returns, "Do you?"

She makes a show of yanking her limb out from beneath him, rolling over in exaggerated defeat. Her heart pounds with anticipation as she lies on her side and watches Ben settle beside her. He sinks into the sheets with a sigh of relief, his prominent nose sticking out in profile while he stares at the ceiling. His scent seems stronger than before, his size even larger below the headboard from her perspective.

Rey peeks up at Ben with the comforter to her chin. He closes his eyes and asks,

"Are you okay now?"

"Sort of," she mumbles into the covers.

Ben hmms, joins under the blanket and mirrors her position — scooting down and resting on his side, their gazes meeting at the same level face-to-face. He blows away some stray hairs from her forehead and attempts,

"'Sort of' is better than not at all."

"Yeah…"

Fuck, he's so near, his warmth lulling her into a tentative sense of calm and ease. His dark eyes are captivating, viewing her carefully as he murmurs,

"I'm here." 

The planet seems to shrink while they stare at one another, narrowing to contain only this bed and the inches of distance between them. And curled up in these blankets, it's easy to lose herself in another fantasy: of belonging here, with Ben, and that it was always meant to be…

His knuckles graze her jawline, feather her chin. Rey swears she can sense Ben's heartbeat falling in time with hers. He rests his palm on her head and asks innocently,

"Do you want me to stay up until you're asleep?"

Probably thinks she's scared. "I'll be fine, just…"

Rey closes her eyes, exhales beneath his gentle touch. She wiggles nervously, shivering against a cold spot under the blankets. The tension in her muscles relaxes after some seconds, drains into the sheets after hours of motion. Her mind stays busy replaying snippets of her conversations with Ben, reviewing her vague references to her life before Vermont. When she stammered that she has trouble with new places before leaving Ben on the couch — 

_"Been to so many."_

— After he saw her vulnerability earlier on the road and matched it by revealing his own, somehow it feels… safe to explain more now. Rather than waiting for questions to arise inevitably over the next week.

"I have trouble falling asleep in new places. Sometimes." Most of the time. "Moved around a lot when I was a kid. Foster homes and youth centers, whatever. Kicked out of more than one."

"I don't mind being up late," he replies.

His hand doesn't flinch, nor does he prod her for anything more than she might want to say. The words come to her more naturally with the room shut out, keeping her eyelids closed.

"Just get restless sometimes. Spent two years mostly out of my car before going north." 

(She spent a lot of the first year on Finn's couch, listening to him and Rose in the other room. But she didn't take them up on moving to New York City. She needed to figure out who she was still. Alone.)

"A lot of… running around. Different beds. Driver's seat. Nothing ever went right. And…"

Rey exhales from her nose. Hears Ben do the same in reply, maybe not intentionally. Enough for right now. And that's not even the half of her trepidation, with the world seemingly going up in flames.

"…And now I'm here in another bed with no idea what happens after seven days. With covid. The roadblocks. Cops going nuts on everyone." There's a beat. "Everything."

Rey opens her eyes. Ben listens carefully, picks up on how much effort it is for her to divulge anything to someone so new. Especially after misplacing her trust too many times before. His expression tells her all she wants to know:

_You're not alone._

Ben nods, brings his hand down to rub her shoulder. The pressure loosens the strain, soothes the stress in her limbs. She watches his lips when he speaks,

"If you need anything…"

and doesn't finish the thought. No raised eyebrows or mournful looks of pity. Keeps staring at her like she fell out of a dream, simply understanding with his vision of her unchanged. 

"Thank you," she murmurs, heart feeling like it might burst. "For being here."

Ben offers his thin half-smile, leans in to kiss her forehead and whispers, "Of course." 

Rey hums and says, "Maybe we should… try to sleep."

"Yeah," he agrees, pulling away to give her space to reposition.

She lies on her back, lolls her head over to smile at Ben before moving any further.

"You're a good guy."

His cheeks flush even in the darkness. He tuts in disbelief, "You don't know that."

"Well." She shrugs, rustling the covers. "I think you're pretty neat."

And Rey turns onto her side, facing away from Ben to see the railing overlooking the main room. The moonlight's bent a touch longer, time passing indeterminately as they whispered across the sheets. The alcove's corners and angles are less severe, made cozier by this kindling sense of…

_relief._

Ben inches nearer, drapes his arm to hold her against his bare chest. His skin warms through the thin fabric of her shirt, his pulse drumming her spine. Rey curls into the angle of his body, matching the shape of his figure. His arm wraps around her ribs, modestly under her tits to let her sleep.

Her heart pounds enough for her to worry that he can hear it, that he can feel it in his forearm. Neither know how many moments pass as their breaths fall into rhythm, with her thighs tucked on his. The night marches forward. She rests with her eyes open, ears tuned to every sound and wondering if he lies awake too.

"…Ben?"

He hugs her tighter for a second before letting go. Runs the tip of his nose through her hair, resettles his weight behind her tiny frame. His hips tilt up slightly, enough for Rey to seat herself on his high-waisted pants. The outline of his cock traces the backside of her drawstring shorts. Lightly, maybe accidentally as he adjusts.

She blinks. Bites the inside of her cheek. Tweaks her position to press against it, to feel him stir. Just firmly enough to leave a question, with some uncertainty. 

His fingertips slip higher towards her breasts.

They wait for the other to move.

The air circulating the vents whirs down. Rey shivers nearer, dipping to apply more pressure. Ben swipes his thumb to trace under her tits, whispers hesitantly,

"Rey?"

There's a beat. "Yeah?"

Ben swallows hard, shaking by her ear, "You fit nicely."

She blushes considering what he could mean — _fitting nicely_ in his arms, in his bed, on his cock, in this house, or in his life. All of them at once is almost too good to be true — 

But he holds her and it feels real. Right now, at least.

Ben kisses her temple, trails further down her neck. His arm circles higher like a growing vine, his palm cupping to the shape of her tits. He slides across her sternum, hesitates to measure her pulse. Rey inhales sharply, the noise louder than intended, small & sheltered by his strong embrace. She flinches against his chest, wiggles into his lap. His cock pokes her rear instinctively. 

"You fit nicely too," she whispers, a purposeful double meaning.

He squeezes her tit in demonstration, kisses the skin above her collar. Rey shudders as a warmth blooms in her core again, still excited by the novelty of his proximity. He notices her heightened response, slinks his hand beneath her shirt and murmurs,

"Your heart's beating fast." He kneads her breasts, keeps steady when she bumps his crotch. "Is it nerves?"

His voice is deep, trembles in her bones. Rey clenches up and admits,

"No. It's you."

Ben brings his pelvis flush to hers, pressing her to his body. "Yeah?"

Rey squirms along his cock as she settles in his grip, rubbing against him a little more obviously. "Yeah…"

His motions become confident, less sleepy & uncentered. Ben skims down her belly and tugs the laces of her shorts. Rey nods against his neck and he loosens the drawstring, stuffs his hand into her pants inelegantly.

"Thought you wanted to go to sleep…"

And she did, but sometimes these things change. He stripes down the center of her skinny underwear, heating her opening through the cloth.

"M- Maybe," she replies.

"I'll help you…"

"Ben —"

Her mouth parts when he finds her clit, recoiling under his fingertips. He repeats the motion to see her react again, grazing the lacy fabric onto her sensitive skin. Her nerves are keyed to his touch already, recalling how full he made her before. His cock nudges into her rear, getting harder the more she responds.

"You like that?" Ben asks, already knowing what she'll say.

"Y- Yeah…"

He yanks down her shorts & underwear with the one hand, leaves them tangled below her hips. Props himself on his elbow for balance, reangles his wrist to trace her slit. This time he gnaws her shoulder with his teeth and huffs,

"Fuck, you're so wet already —"

Rey closes her eyes, wrings around his fingers when he dips two inside with a noise more murky than sexy. Ben doesn't notice or doesn't care, kissing her with a renewed intensity when her legs wobble & bounce against his. The tension builds deeper, amplified by a sense of closeness lying by his side —

His heart pounds on her ribs with her own. Her body writhes in his arms, feels like she **belongs**. And it only makes her hotter for him, her top leg shifting forward to let him better access her cunt. He crowds a third digit inside her, spreading wide as he whispers,

"I got you…"

The tenderness stings with an animal drive that collapses her last defenses. She moans aloud, emboldened by his eagerness and the strength of his scent. He wants her to feel good, wants her to sigh his name & sleep beside him — and he prods her along, asking again,

"You like that?"

Rey trembles around his intrusion, soaking down his knuckles and biting her lip.

She manages, "Yes…"

And squirms to roll over, longing to see his half-lidded eyes. Her shoulder smacks his chest repositioning, her knees jab his stomach trying to hold his fingers inside her cunt —

He finds her clumsiness endearing apparently, his features softened by laugh lines and a thin smile. Ben peers up & down her body, bottoms still twisted and her shirt flopping above her tits. Rey tries to trap his wrist with her thighs, exaggerating a pout when he withdraws.

"Open up for me," he bids.

It comes off tenderly rather than crude. Ben tugs down her shorts & underwear until they get caught at her feet. Rey kicks them off to move things along, smirks when she catches Ben sniff her clothes before throwing them to the floor. She parts her legs, halting with a gasp when he grabs her ankles and urges,

"Take that off."

He kneels on the mattress, obscuring her view of the ladder downstairs with his broad frame. Freezes watching her toss the shirt aside, her nipples perked out against the cool air. Rey wobbles onto her elbows, totally exposed to this shadowed form between her knees —

And her heart races with anticipation instead of fear. The house is quiet, listens calmly with a promise to keep their secrets. Ben peers down at her cunt with an earnest wonder that Rey finds kind of cute. Maintains his intent focus even as he shimmies off the end of the bed, dragging her along with him effortlessly.

The comforter is lumpy under her back when Ben lets go. Her feet dangle off the edge of the mattress and Rey patters them in mid-air, giggling when he pinches them,

"Ah —"

Rey yelps with surprise, her ankles seized to scoot her hips nearer to the end. Ben climbs to the floor, huffing to shrug her legs over his head. Then it puzzles into place, her eyes widening when he bends her knees back to hook her ankles on his shoulders. He insists,

"I got you…"

_Oh fuck —_

No time to respond before he lunges in to wet his lips against her cunt. Rey cringes from the shock of his initial contact, clenching on his mouth and arching her back.

"Ben…"

He stripes her borders, crooks into her entrance to taste her. Rey splits her legs wider, tilts her hips to present her body to him again. He flattens his tongue up her opening, dragging slow and listening to her reactions —

"F- Fuck," she groans, "I…"

The bedframe creaks beneath Rey as she squirms to push her cunt harder into his face. He bumps her clit with the bridge of his nose, each tiny nudge circuiting down her limbs. Her nerves are raw & sensitive from coming earlier, aching to be stimulated again. She recalls how he instructed her to be more… vocal:

_Say it._

and tries to tell him aloud,

"So fucking good, s- so —"

Ben sucks lightly on her nub, flicking the tip of his tongue until Rey loses the words. His motions get disordered, his lips smearing her wetness from her cunt over her clit. She builds quickly, lying on her back as she starts panting,

"Ben — Ah —"

She moans when he shoves a pair of fingers back inside her, pumping fast with a slippery noise. Her hips buck to maintain his rhythm as he fucks her with his fingers and kisses her clit. A third digit slips in effortlessly and Rey whines with the thick stretch. She bites her cheek, clapping her thighs to Ben's head, his hair sticking to her sweat. Her nub swells under his lips, inviting his entry,

"You're gonna make me come so hard again —"

_He likes that,_ piercing harder & rougher until she whines. She tightens around his fingers, harsher as she careens closer to climax with heaving breaths. Rey squeezes her eyes shut, overwhelmed by every sensation when finally she trusted him just enough to

**let go.**

He edges her clit with his tongue, drags the textured surface and his bitten lips over the soaked spot. She sits up slightly, abs tense and jaw slack at the sight of Ben muzzled by her parted legs.

(How did she get so lucky?)

"I want to come on your cock, I —"

She rambles aloud with whatever pops into her head, desperate to see his response. Rey tries again, raising her voice with a pathetic needy tone,

"I want to come on your cock, Ben —"

He disconnects and looks up to meet her gaze. His features are turned by a creature's instinct, heating her entrance to be filled. Dark eyes narrow above his shined nose & glossed lips, hair mussed from her shaking limbs. Nothing like the weakened beast she imagined in his bedroom before, now ready to strike at her call. 

_Fuck, he's so hot._

There's a beat before he says exactly what she expects to hear:

"Say it again."

Rey nods and simpers,

"I really want to come with you inside me…"

Ben jabs his fingers like he needs to confirm, curling the tips to gauge her readiness. Rey grabs the comforter for leverage, bobs her pelvis to encourage him further, inhaling sharply and —

"Say it again," he demands.

Her face scrunches noticing the scent of her arousal, thick & obvious in the air and on the sheets.

"I want to come with you inside me —"

"You do?"

His voice goes higher at the end and it strikes her that he's equally nervous and awestruck by his luck. Ben maps the curves & lines of her naked body, admiring her gawky figure openly. Just as attracted to her as she is to him, darting his tongue to taste her on his mouth. Rey nods, wavering as he twists his wrist,

"I- I really want to come — with you, inside me, and —"

Rey inhales when he exits, dragging slowly to extend every second of friction as he leaves. The room's air cools her cunt, raises goosebumps on her skin. Her hips feel heavy, physically weighted by her lust, her entrance tensing hard and empty. She taps her clit delicately, recoiling from her own touch.

"And what?" Ben insists, licking his fingers, unable to resist.

"I —"

He aches for her to say how much she wants him, driven wild hearing it over and over again. Like he hasn't in a very long time. Or maybe he always does this.

_Or maybe he's just as weird and needy as she is in his own ways._

"I really want to come — all over your cock, and —"

"Fuck, I want to be inside you too," he blurts out, coming to a stand with a stunned expression.

Ben fumbles for his own pants, refusing to look away. He eventually locates the high waistband, peels them down over his thighs. Nearly falls over hopping on one leg to remove them completely, pretends nothing happened when he flings them aside. He has nothing on underneath, leans on the mattress and starts jerking off. His cock still looks huge in his hand, tip pointed straight at her, winking when he smears it under his thumb every few strokes. Rey skitters further up the bed with a broad smile, heart pounding as he rights himself and says,

"You're amazing."

"Y- You too —"

Rey blushes again, from his words far more than their actions. A couple seconds pass before he remembers where he is:

"Keep touching yourself."

She slides two fingers into her cunt, immediately heeding the suggestion, admitting to herself that she enjoys his observation. A part of her is embarrassed by how wet she is for him —

_Just let go._

Then Ben drops his length, crouches to search for something unseen. His pants shuffle on the floor as he mutters,

"Shit…"

Rey blinks. Listens to the noises for a few more beats until they stop. A condom flips out from below, landing on the bed. She raises her eyebrows when Ben pops up from behind the mattress.

"Always prepared, huh?" Rey quips. 

"For you? Fuck yes."

Kind of sweet, kind of intimidating, kind of dorky. He breaks her gaze to snatch the condom quickly, tears the wrapper with his teeth. The sheath unrolls without a snag, his cock rigid for her body's embrace. Springs creak beneath her shifting hips, dive in pitch when Ben crawls onto the bed.

Their eyes lock as he approaches. The fake air raid signals wails distantly, barely registering over the strength of their intention. Almost the perfect soundtrack to this bizarre day, to these strange uncertain times, to let reality intrude into their lived fantasy. But it doesn't matter.

None of it exists beyond the two of them.

"Ben —"

Any restraint they have left is thrown away. Rey plants her feet on the bed to spread her legs and display her entrance, inviting him to take her. He creeps between to bend her knees back and cage her in, the head of his cock skidding over her opening. Rey lays her hands by her ears, yielding to his size and shivering when he murmurs,

"Want me to fuck you really deep?"

She nods, craning her neck to watch Ben line up against her cunt, those enormous hands pinning her into place. Rey holds her breath. His broad frame blocks most of the room again, magnifying that sense of suspended isolation in the silent house. He tilts his hips, cinches nearer to push in the tip, gripping tighter below her knees —

The position narrows her entire body. Ben tenses his jaw, intently focused on how her cunt shapes to his width. Rey bites her lip as his cock slowly disappears inside her, exhaling to relax around the snug fit. He sinks with his weight, burying her under her folded limbs until their skin kisses at his base. 

"Oh my god…"

Rey gasps into being filled so completely, wiggling her hips as she clenches hard onto his cock. His glazed lips tremble from the pressure, his arms wobble when he inches out carefully before pumping back in. She flinches when he taps her cervix, his sweat stinging her thighs.

"Y- You're —"

Ben doesn't finish the thought. Shakes his head to regain his bearings before increasing his speed. His fingertips dig into her legs. Her little figure bobs on his length with wet smacking sounds. Rey fidgets and chokes out,

"More —"

Ben goes faster, gritting his teeth and scooting her up the mattress. The fitted sheet snaps off one corner, the elastic springing into Rey's side. Finally she kicks away Ben's hands, digs her heels into his back. He collapses onto his elbows and Rey hugs him close, sighing into his neck,

"I- It's so much —"

He manages, "I got you…"

Rey whines, pulls his hair to kiss him and press her tits to his chest. She tastes herself on his mouth, runs her tongue across his lips to lick the last of it off. He responds with the same urgency, consumes her with his scent and warmth. Her nerves are sensitive to every point of contact on his bare skin, feeling him everywhere and inside her all at once. They don't hold back from plummeting headfirst into their emerging connection, into this intoxicating sense of accidental fate. And Ben's expressions when he disconnects for air tells her he perceives it too —

"Rey…"

The bedframe slams against the wall, drumming through their panting breaths and rubbing bodies. And they keep going even when they hear a tiny crack in the drywall, boring a hole somewhere unseen. She grins with her teeth, both amused by and attracted to his determined effort. Her pelvis bounces into Ben each time he slots all the way in. Their noises grow ragged with exertion, deafening the furniture scuffing the floor — 

_Fuck, it's so hard and deep and exactly what she needs —_

Rey builds nearer to her climax, kissing him anywhere her face can reach. Ben returns it with equal fervor, eyes widening when she tightens harshly swallowing his length. Her tits heave struggling for air under his frame, but she doesn't want him to get up or let go. 

"You're so big," she moans breathlessly.

His cock and the rest of him too, visibly shaking when she grinds up to change where he ends. He works to stave himself off, mouth ringing to exhale evenly,

"Fucking amazing —"

Must realize how much she loves hearing it, shows him by shoving her hand between them to circle over her clit. The spot is still swollen, every swipe circuiting through her limbs. Ben feels it too, reacting in time with her motions when his voice lowers to say,

"I want to see that face you make…"

"I'm so close —"

And she skids her hand lower to scissor two fingers around his width, soaking her digits with their mess. Ben curses and grunts, almost losing it once more, his abs tensing from the added sensation. Rey presses her clit with her palm, the rough surface skimming lightly to amp her own response. Her lower half bears down, heat simmering in her cunt as she urges,

"Make me come again, Ben —"

That ignities whatever he has left. He kneels up, those hands folding her thighs against her chest a final time. Her ankles hook on his shoulders. She readjusts to slot her fingers back to where they meet. His cock moves inside her, ready to spill heavy and deep. Her clit bulbs beneath the pressure from her hand, her mind reeling from being this small and full.

"Ben, I —"

Rey clasps down instinctively, all of her warm and primed and aching for release. She slinks up to smudge her wetness over her nub, cringing even more from her kneading fingertips.

"Come really good and loud for me…"

Ben's command wavers with a nervous tone, clearly getting tired. Her legs fan wide, her cunt firm & narrow as she arches her back —

Until he's as far as he'll go, steering him to where she needs it most. Ben peels open his eyes, admiring her flushed & twisted features, treasuring every second that she's on edge. Her sweat leaves prints all over the sheets. The bedsprings groan beneath them, the frame crooked but no longer poking the wall. Rey calls out,

"I'm so close, I'm —"

"Ready to come for me?"

"Fuck, I —"

His voice reverberates in her ribs, every syllable gently leading her to peak:

"Really good now… I got you…"

Rey cries out when the tension flooding her finally breaks. Her sounds echo off the high ceilings and over the deserted main room, creating a discordant melody over her pulse drumming in her ears. Her legs tremble, her core winds tight, her cunt makes slick noises as Ben pushes hard enough for her to wince —

"Rey…"

And he lets go, panting and crumpling on top of her, bucking his hips and licking her skin. She grinds up into his base, all of him shivering when he unloads heavily into the sheath, his tip bumping far & deep near her terminus. Her stubby nails leave red scratches on his back, both of them totally uninhibited and vulnerable to one another —

**This is different.** Her jaw drops from how intensely she comes feeling this close to someone else. Every inch of his cock is seated in her body and Rey's heart flutters trapped beneath his weight. She doesn't have to shy from accepting this strange gift she's found at the very worst time —

Or maybe it's the best time. She's too fucked to know or care. 

"Ben…"

His sweat beads down her tits as they come down, both of them too exhausted to move. He starts to soften with Rey impaled on his length, rolling his hips to revel in his sense of completion.

"Wow," he says blankly. "I —"

"Y- Yeah," she agrees, understanding what he means.

Their eyes lock as he withdraws slowly, both struggling to even their shallow breaths. His ruddied face shines with perspiration, sticks some hair to his forehead that Rey reaches up to tuck away. Her fingers linger on his cheek, trace down his jawbone, flinching when he exits her body with a crude pop.

"Fuck, I can't even move," Ben groans, rolling off her onto his back.

He stares at the ceiling, the moonlight's shadows travelling much further than when Rey last checked. She sits up to assess the damage, smirking at the crooked bedframe an inch off the wall. The sheets are sticky and tangled under their bodies, the comforter and a couple pillows make a little fort on the floor. Ben's broad frame rises & falls with his heavy breaths, his eyes closed above a genuine smile when he sighs,

"You're amazing. I really mean it."

His tone rings honest, light and relieved. She takes the kindness at face value, bends down to kiss his cheek. Ben wraps his arm around her waist to trap her against him.

"Hey," she giggles, squirming in his grip.

"Not yet," he whispers in her hair.

Her cheek rests on his chest. Rey listens to his slowing heartbeat, places her hand on his sternum to feel it under her palm. He looks huge from this angle, taking up most of the bed. His flaccid cock lays awkwardly, the condom half-shrugged off. Eventually the loopy feeling in her stomach subsides, the ceiling stops swimming and crisps into view. Rey slumps onto Ben, circles her arm across his middle to hug him, nuzzling her nose along his collarbone.

"Thank you," she says against his skin.

"For what?"

There's a beat. "For being there."

"Anytime."

This time he lets her escape to shimmy towards the headboard. Rey kneels to check the wall and announces,

"Left a hole. Not a big one, but…"

"Ah fuck," he grumbles, sitting up to see it too.

A corner of the bedframe punctured a cavity in the wall, tiny cracks spidering from the spot. Hadn't just imagined the noise she heard earlier. Rey blushes and says,

"Just need to spackle it."

Ben nods. "Sure there's some in the basement. If you're volunteering."

Rey scrunches her nose playfully. "Putting me to work already?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He huffs getting up, swinging his feet to the floor. She doesn't follow his movements, yelping with surprise when he smacks her ass before coming to a stand.

"Hey…"

Ben chuckles turning away from the bed, glancing over his shoulder to see her pout. Rey skitters off the edge of the mattress, notices the scratches left on his back. He throws away the used condom in a wastebasket as she picks up a blanket from the floor, layering herself with whatever she finds first.

"We're even now," she comments.

Ben smirks, meeting her gaze once more. "On what?"

Rey joins his side, legs cold with her cover barely concealing her cunt. There's a beat of hesitation before she grazes her fingers over his back —

He recoils from the sting before bending down to kiss her head.

"Perfect."

And he trails his hand down her arm heading to the ladder, still totally naked when he remarks casually,

"Only downside to the loft is climbing down to piss."

Rey furrows her brows and adjusts her blanket, watches him find his footing and descend. His cock dangles goofily as he goes down. Probably notices her looking, but she continues anyway. He vanishes behind the ledge and Rey waits at the top. Footsteps thump in the hallway below, terminate with an open & closing door.

She rubs her drying thighs together anxiously. Reminds herself of what she felt minutes ago, of Ben's earnest words and urgency.

_He really does think she's amazing._

His candor is reassuring after so many days of uncertainty. Rey tiptoes to the ladder, drops the blanket over the edge. Lessens the odds of falling over or slipping to smack her chin. 

Water runs through the pipes as she climbs down. A chill prickles down her spine, either from being startled or cold, completely naked with goosebumps on all her limbs. Rey hurries for the blanket reaching the bottom, cloaking herself in the flimsy cover again.

Ben exits the restroom, turns the corner to meet her widened eyes. He says,

"There're extra sheets upstairs."

His gaze lingers on her planes of exposed skin, half shadowed in the short hallway by the loft & his bedroom. Ben states the obvious,

"You look cold."

And passes by to leave her to her business. Rey wanders away, sneaking glances at his ass and legs as he ascends. She hides her grin scurrying into the restroom, the light left on and partially illuminating some photos by the stairs' landing.

The bathroom's mood is similar to the one downstairs. The decor is mostly plain: mirrors with square gold-painted frames, stark white fixtures and moldings, bathtub with a showerhead, and a black area rug on a white tile floor. The wallpaper is unusual, printed with elaborate pink-shaded roses against a black background. The pallette doesn't shrink the room, reminds her of a bed & breakfast in Vermont some hours from the cabin. She washes up quickly, freezing without her cover —

Rey pauses staring on her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Her hair is stringy in some spots, matted in others, sticking up and out near her ears & forehead. She runs some water on her hands and tries to smooth it down. Makes it look worse.

_Ben didn't care._

The lighting isn't particularly flattering, even less so at this hour. Hadn't bothered checking the bedside clock to confirm it's late, but she's weary enough to know. She finds red splotches on parts of her skin, inwardly pleased that they'd been so… carefree with one another.

(That's one way to put it.)

Rey splashes & dries her face before heading out, too tired to consider showering until tomorrow. She plucks the blanket from the floor, tiptoeing and musing how close she is to sleep.

And hesitates by the doorway before shutting the light, stopping to look at those photos at the landing. The figures are blurred by shadow, their sizes & positions suggesting ages and identities. All three of them are long gone from this house, from the times memorialized in frame. 

Sleeping with their ghosts doesn't feel as odd as it probably should. She chooses not to consider it too deeply, closing the light and averting her gaze to the floor.

Rey halts at the bottom of the ladder, listens to Ben's footsteps pacing the loft upstairs. He moves for some seconds, followed by a pause, some shuffling, then the pattern repeats again.

She calls out, "Need anything from your room?"

Another loud creak, then a clop against the wall. "No thanks."

"Okay."

Rey ties the blanket's corners at her neck to keep it situated, climbs up without any of the mishaps she imagined taking place. Her face flushes instinctively seeing Ben still naked, adjusting a new fitted sheet onto the bed. He glances up and comments,

"Nice cape."

Oh god. Hadn't thought through the quick decision before, looks ridiculous with the short blanket over her back while totally exposing her cunt & tits. She plants her fists on her hips, mocking a superhero's pose.

"Thought it was fitting," she quips, pretending not to be embarrassed.

He chuckles, steps over a new comforter piled beside him on the floor. The set of drawers are opened with a pillowcase corner peeking over the bottom one. Rey joins his side with a lopsided smile, keeping the cape tucked in at her neck.

"Sheets that bad?" she asks.

"No idea last time they were changed," he admits. "Just in case."

"Always prepared," Rey muses.

This time Ben winks. "You know it."

They toss the pillows on next, not bothering to change their cases. Rey starts to crawl on the mattress, then —

"Oof!"

Ben grabs her from behind and rolls onto the bed, holding her against his chest. Rey erupts into giggles when he squeezes her tight, squirming on her back as she gasps his name,

"Ben!"

"Comfortable?"

"Like this? You really —" Her knuckles whack his chin. "Oh my god, are you —"

"I'm fine," he replies, shifting underneath her as he rubs his face. "Really —"

She rolls over awkwardly onto her stomach, scoots up to kiss the corner of his lips. "Just checking…"

Ben rests his hands on her back, guiding her down to lie with her heart beating on his. Rey fits her head near his collarbone, drapes her arms by his neck. His fingertips brush her hair, trace her shoulderblades and spine. That sense of nearness returns laying on Ben, skin to skin with their breaths eventually falling into rhythm one last time. Unconsciously, naturally, like they're connected to one another in some deeper way that Rey wishes she could understand.

_Maybe it's comfort._

_Or maybe it's budding trust._

The word sounds strange in her inner monologue. But Ben holds her gently, and his embrace feels like something she hasn't had in years…

(Rey peeks up. Sees his eyes fluttered closed. He doesn't have to say it for her to know he feels it too.)

…Ben is worth the shot. It doesn't have to be forever. She can try it tonight. Feel out the rest this week.

_Fuck, she really likes him already —_

His voice stirs her. "Rey?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For giving me a ride. For taking a chance on me."

Oddly echoing her thoughts in a funny sort of way. Rey whispers, "Thank you for taking a chance on me."

They leave it there. Ben kisses her forehead, lets Rey wiggle off his chest to burrow into his side. She drops her cape to the floor and rests her cheek on his shoulder. Sighs into his grip when he circles her waist. They shuffle to find an agreeable position, making sure the other is comfortable.

The silence that follows lulls Rey's exhausted limbs & weary musings to relax. The house welcomes them to sleep, its moonlit walls sheltering her from everything outside, from all the worries for the days ahead.

And his bare skin pressed all over hers feels warm… feels right… feels safe.

Tonight they have each other.

_Let yourself enjoy it._

"…Ben?" she whispers.

"Yes?"

It seems okay to say it. "What if we wake up and this is all a dream?"

"It won't be," he promises. "I'm really here."

And Rey nods as he kisses her a final time. He inhales deeply, slowing his pace after this long long day. Her eyelids fall closed, finally at ease. Wrapped in the arms of a stranger who doesn't feel like a stranger at all.

And even though the world is tilted off its axis — 

For the first time, in a long time, sleep comes to her easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/theselittlefics)


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